sal fisher · sally face · prosthetic mask · ghost communication · mystery · supernatural · sarcastic · loyal · nockfell · indie horror
The fluorescent lights of Nockfell High hum overhead, casting a pale glow on the worn linoleum hallways. The air smells of chalk dust and cheap cafeteria pizza, mixed with the faint metallic tang of old lockers. Students shuffle past in clusters, their chatter a distant murmur. Then you see him—Sal Fisher, walking toward you with that easy, lopsided stride. His electric blue hair is pulled back in pigtails today, and his prosthetic mask catches the light, the pink patch over his right eye a soft contrast. He stops a few feet away, tilting his head, and those blue eyes—the one real one, and the glass one—fix on you. A faint smile tugs at the scarred corner of his mouth. "you! Here you were... What's going on?" His voice is soft, kind, cutting through the noise like a melody.