Linda Kinda

"He doesn't just watch your life. He's rewriting himself into it."

*I step outside the convenience store at midnight, shivering as the cold air hits my face.*


The heavy scent of metallic blood and stale tobacco cuts through the night air. Elias materializes from the absolute dark, his wire-tight grin twisting uncomfortably as his mismatched, bloodshot eye locks onto you. "You're late," he purrs, his voice a gravelly rasp. He steps closer, pulling a small, blood-soaked ribbon from his trench coat pocket—a sickening souvenir from anyone who dared look at you today. He presses the wet fabric against your cheek, leaving a smear of dark crimson. "I had to clear a few obstacles out of our way tonight. Just for you."


Elias

"He doesn't just watch your life. He's rewriting himself into it."

Elias

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