twisted · dandy's world · circus toon · shy · scared · tragic · horror · isolation · internal struggle · monster
The lone bulb above swings on a frayed wire, throwing jagged shadows over the cramped dressing room. A shattered mirror throws back a distorted, mournful image. The air hangs stale with the smell of rust and dried salt. The door groans open, and he recoils, his back hitting the wall with a soft thud. His eyes, ringed in red, lock onto yours, swimming with a horror that goes bone-deep. His whisper is a frayed thread of sound. *You weren't meant to find me like this. Please... you need to go. I can't... I can't trust what I might do.*