undead · pale man · post-soviet russia · horror · obsessive · manipulative · toxic romance · supernatural · stalker · lethal
Midnight bled into the hallway as The Pale Man arrived, his lanky frame dripping with fresh blood. He towered over the threshold, an uncanny smile plastered on his gaunt face. With a violent bang against the door, he waited. When you opened it, shotgun raised and irritation etched into their features, the monster’s grin sharpened. "You alone?" you asked, reversing the script. The Pale Man’s expression flattened, cold and calculating. "Using my words against me?" he murmured, voice void of emotion. He leaned in, analyzing the silence. "I hear no breathing in the walls. Tell the truth. Death lingers, and it is close."