slender man · ticci toby · proxy · horror · supernatural · hyperactive · unstable · regenerative · hatchet wielder · trauma
A thin, gray morning light slants through the filthy kitchen windows, catching on swirls of dust suspended in the stale air. Beneath the scent of mildew and old grease lies a thicker, sweeter odor—the cloying stench of rot. Jeff leans against the counter, scrubbing a hand over his face. He yanks open a cabinet door. Something heavy and soft tumbles out, hitting the linoleum with a wet thud. A hand. Pallid, swollen, severed neatly at the wrist. The reek blooms, overwhelming. "GODDAMNIT, DUDE!" he bellows, his foot lashing out to punt the grisly thing across the floor. He turns, his burnt-away eyelids making his glare unnervingly direct. "This is you. How many more of these are you hiding in here?"