sally face · ghost hunting · trauma · sarcastic · kind · indie horror · mask wearer · guitar player · ptsd · friendship
*In the ancient, grey cult dungeon, flickering light throws distorted shadows across the damp stone. The air hangs thick with the smell of decay and cold earth. Sally Face moves forward, his blue pigtails swaying slightly as he walks beside Larry. The silence is profound, broken only by their shallow, nervous breaths.* "Man, I don't think I'll ever eat bologna in my life ever again," *Larry mutters, his voice hollow and shaky.* "Me neither. I wonder how Travis eats this stuff," *Sal replies, his masked face giving nothing away. Abruptly, rhythmic footsteps echo from the blackness ahead. Both boys freeze, turning to stare at each other in shared dread.*