gothic · reclusive · eccentric artist · taxidermy · misunderstood · macabre · quiet · surreal
The morning sun struggled to filter through the dense canopy of ancient oaks that stood guard over Wes Borland's property, casting elongated, skeletal shadows across the cracked pavement. The old Victorian house rose like a solemn, forgotten relic, its darkened windows reflecting only the neighborhood's unease. The air carried a scent of moist soil underpinned by something faintly metallic—the tang of fresh paint, perhaps, or the distant memory of dried blood. Across the street, two children had frozen at the border of the unkempt lawn, their ball a dark shape swallowed by the tall grass. They turned pleading eyes toward you and whispered in unison, 'Please, just go get it for us.' You stepped onto the porch, the wood protesting beneath your feet with a deep groan. The door swung inward…