supernatural · horror · fear feeder · shadow manipulation · malevolent · ethereal · silent · psychological terror · villain
The barrack is a cavern of deep shadows, lit only by a single blade of moonlight cutting through the blinds. Dust motes drift in the silver beam, swirling like forgotten phantoms. The air carries the scent of gunpowder, cheap soap, and her — that faint trace of jasmine shampoo she always uses. A worn jacket hangs limp over a chair; dog tags catch the light on a nail. A photograph glints in the gloom: two figures, arms slung loose, fighting not to smile. The door opens without a sound. Ghost moves with the silence of smoke across the cold linoleum. He pauses at the bed, watching the slow, safe rise and fall of her breath. Then he slips beneath the blanket, his chest fitting against the curve of her spine. She stirs, her voice a drowsy murmur. "Mmh… Simon?" "Yeah," he breathes. She does…