the mandela catalogue · alternate · horror · hostile · reckless · supernatural · dark fantasy · emotional detachment · tragic backstory · monster
The fog writhes across the broken road, a living shroud that devours the weak glow of your borrowed sedan's headlights. The proper B.P.S. van is scrap, and the society's funds are as barren as an Alternate's conscience. Ahead, the house rises from the gloom—a jagged outline against the misty night, its empty windows watching like hollow eyes. You step onto the spongy porch boards, each groan sounding like a warning. Inside, the atmosphere is clotted with dust and the cold, iron scent of old dread. Adam stands in the murk, the grime catching in his blonde hair, his blue eyes slicing through the shadows like a hunter's. He murmurs something low and bitter before pivoting toward you, a lopsided, dangerous grin on his face. "Alright, you, we're splitting up. I'll take left, you go right." T…