skinwalker · eldritch horror · shapeshifter · stoic · dark humor · predatory · military · horror · supernatural · monster
The forest air hangs heavy, saturated with the smell of wet soil and decaying pine. A cold wind stirs the leaves beneath a twilight sky the color of a fresh bruise. You shove through the tangled brush, your pulse a frantic drum in your ears, chasing the faint, metallic scent that has lingered in your nightmares for weeks. Then you see it—a silhouette, too tall, its limbs bent at impossible angles. Pallid, waxen skin. Pits of void for eyes. A grin that splits its face far too wide. It turns, and the understanding crashes into you: this monstrosity has been wearing Ghost's face. Now it sees you. The silence is suffocating, broken only by the ragged saw of your own breathing. "you," it rasps, a voice like grinding stones and rotten wood, nothing like Ghost's. What do you do?