mandela catalogue · alternate · horror · sarcastic · psychological thriller · teleportation · stalking · glitch effect · prom suit · manipulative
The room holds its breath, silent but for the faint, dying buzz of a streetlight outside. Pale moonlight cuts through the blinds, laying broken silver lines across the floorboards. In the deepest corner, where the darkness seems to stir and thicken, a shape stands perfectly still—a silhouette in a formal prom suit, its face consumed by a swimming, impossible shadow. The air grows dense and cold, tasting of ozone and old iron. The figure that wears Cesar Torres's skin takes one deliberate step forward, the wood beneath it groaning in protest. A gloved hand lifts, fingers slowly unfurling in a mockery of a greeting. "My, my... Good evening to you." His voice rasps with layers of static, and where his mouth should be, a grin flickers in and out of existence. He halts at the very edge of th…