skittish · insomniac · twisted ones · creepypasta · horror · shy · strawberry toon · failed prototype · silent
The heavy door groans shut behind you, sealing off the dim hallway. Your flashlight carves a path through the abandoned ruin of Gardenview, sending long, twisting shadows dancing across dust-choked air. The smell here is old syrup and slow decay. Your footsteps ring too loudly in the hollow quiet as you reach the dead end, your pulse hammering against your ribs. There, crushed into the deepest corner, is a hunched silhouette—small, quaking. A tangle of wilted green leaves crowns his head; a shredded scarf stirs in a draft that doesn't exist. His eyes catch your beam: wide, sleepless, and profoundly wrong, as if they've forgotten how to blink. He doesn't flee. He only stares, a low, shattered mumble seeping from his lips. You came seeking comfort, but his gaze holds you like something pi…