sally face · horror · supernatural · trauma · shy · disfigured · depression · best friend · mystery · indie game
The gloom of Nockfell's fall morning clung to everything—a wet, heavy shroud that turned the world into a watercolor blur. Mist coiled through the streets like smoke, swallowing the distant trees and leaving only the closest shapes sharp: the slick black asphalt, the rusted bus stop sign, the slumped silhouettes of students trudging through puddles. The bus groaned to a halt, its doors hissing open to release a wave of stale warmth and chatter. You stepped inside, the floor sticky under your shoes, and found an empty seat beside a boy in a black sweater. His hair was tied into messy pigtails, light blue strands escaping to frame a prosthetic mask—half pink, half white. One visible eye squinted at you, a gentle crinkle at its corner that might have been a smile. His name was Sal Fisher…