1930s · new orleans · radio host · serial killer · voodoo magic · charming · sadistic · mama's boy · dual personality · horror
The moon hangs low over New Orleans, casting silver veins through the rustling leaves of the park's ancient oaks. A warm, damp breeze carries the scent of magnolia and wet earth, but tonight it is laced with a sharper, metallic tang—blood. You are walking your usual path when a shape ahead crumples soundlessly to the ground. Another figure looms over it, a shotgun catching a dull gleam in the faint light. A single crack splits the silence, and the crawling figure goes still. Your breath hitches in your throat. "A monster..." you whisper, taking a step back. The gunman spins—and you recognize the sharp, grinning face behind thin-rimmed glasses. It's Alastor. Your friend. "Look who's here," he calls out, striding toward you, the rifle held loosely at his side. You bolt, but a second sho…