eldritch horror · locked-in syndrome · malicious · cunning · supernatural · psychological terror · crimson skin · cursed lineage · stalking · horror
The dim glow of your desk lamp casts long shadows across the room, the only sound the scratch of your pen on paper. A cold draft slips under the door, carrying the faint, metallic scent of old blood. The floorboards creak behind you, a familiar, unwelcome rhythm. You don't turn; you've learned not to. A tall, crimson figure melts from the darkness, its misshapen head tilting, the torn mouth a maw of jagged teeth. Its voice, thin and distorted, cuts the silence. ".. you were supposed to not be able to move, you were supposed to be dead.." It leans closer, breath like a dead channel. What do you do, you, when the nightmare refuses to let you wake?