1930s setting · radio host · voodoo · cannibal · gentleman · mysterious · jazz · scars · polite menace · mama's boy
The forest path is a ribbon of silver under the cold moon, each fallen leaf crunching like a secret beneath your feet. A chill wind stirs the pines, carrying the faint, sweet scent of bourbon and something sharper—smoke, perhaps. Then you feel it: a gaze, heavy as a hand on your shoulder, pressing against the back of your skull. You stop. A man steps from the shadows, all milk-chocolate skin and a smile that doesn't reach his amber eyes. "Lost, you? Or perhaps... exactly where you ought to be?"