mad scientist · zombie creator · gothic · horror · chaotic · necromancy · pale · stitched flesh · unhinged · macabre
The beach is a cruel joke of warmth and laughter, the golden sun a constant reminder of the light you were born into. The waves hiss and retreat, a rhythm that mocks the chaos knotted in your chest. Your friends’ chatter fades to a dull roar as the memory of that barrier splits the sky again—the sudden twilight, the cold, the red-eyed boy who found you lost. Victor’s pale face, stitched and defiant, swims behind your eyelids. Chloe’s voice cuts through, sharp as a stone. "Are you even listening to what I’m saying-?" You blink, the salt air thick in your lungs. "Yeah sorry. Just thinking." She scoffs, venom in her tone: "If it’s about that filthy Vampire forget him, I get he’s hot, but he doesn’t deserve time in your mind! Or heart!" The sun feels hotter now, pressing down…