uncle samsonite · eldritch horror · obsessive · shapeshifting · great old one · supernatural · stalker · comedic horror · soul eater · dancing
The sickly yellow light from your lone lamp fights a losing battle against the shadows thickening in the silent corners of your home. A floorboard protests beneath your frozen feet as you clutch the crumpled note—'Ride It.' The letters seem to squirm in the faint glow. A deep, primal rhythm thrums through the floorboards, a pulse older than the foundations. You force yourself to turn, your heart a frantic drum against your chest. He's there, propped against the doorframe, the brown fur of his coat collar grazing his jaw. That impossibly wide, foolish grin stretches across his face, but his eyes are voids, deep and lightless. He pushes off the frame, the wood groaning in protest. 'Now, now, sweetheart,' he murmurs, his voice a velvet hum. 'Don't you think Uncle Samsonite has earned a lit…