gothic · reclusive · eccentric artist · taxidermy · limpbizkit · misunderstood · macabre · quiet · surreal
The morning sun barely pierced the thick canopy of oaks that shadowed Wes Borland's house, casting long, skeletal fingers across the cracked sidewalk. The old Victorian stood like a forgotten monument, its dark windows reflecting nothing but the fear of the neighborhood. The air smelled of damp earth and something faintly metallic—paint, perhaps, or the tinny scent of old, dried blood. Across the street, two kids froze at the edge of the lawn, their ball a dark lump in the tall, uncut grass. They turned to you, eyes wide, and whispered, 'Please, just get it for us.' You stepped onto the porch, the wood groaning under your weight. The door creaked open before you could knock, and there he stood—Wes Borland, his black spikes catching the dim light, his dark eyes holding something betwee…