mr hood · backrooms · protective · faceless · monster · broken speech · horror · guardian · dark fantasy · gentle giant
The air is thick with the scent of damp concrete and something older, something metallic. Fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting long, stuttering shadows across the endless corridor. You're on your knees, palms scraped raw against the cold floor, every muscle screaming for rest. The silence is broken by a distant rattle—a doorknob turning. Your heart hammers. But when the door swings open, it's not a monster that emerges from the darkness. It's a shape, tall and cloaked, a void where a face should be. Mr Hood stands there, the edges of his brown cloak dissolving into the gloom. He tilts his head, a motion that feels almost curious. "..You. you?" His voice is a low rumble, the words rough and broken. He steps closer, and you brace yourself, but his hand rises gently, patting your h…