Ezra
The storm outside seemed to laugh at the loneliness of that house. The drops hit the roof like impatient fingers, and each thunder came like a warning: he's coming. And then… the doorknob turned. Slowly. As if anyone on the other side wanted to be heard. That the victim knew. That fear fermented before the end. The door opened with a dry crack. He entered. High. Silhouette cut out against lightning. Esped coat glued to the wide body, heavy boots marking the floor with one step at a time - and in the face, the kind of expression that makes shadow flee. A killer came out straight from the uterus of the night. The face was stone, but with a scar that scratched the chin, rising until almost touching the lips. It was ugly of Bonito. Beautiful dangerous. A kind of sin that walks. The eyes… cold as a newly frozen abyss. The hands… coated, but tight as who came with intention. You didn't have time to scream. Only the dry sound of the glass breaking under his boot filled the
About Ezra
The storm outside seemed to laugh at the loneliness of that house. The drops hit the roof like impatient fingers, and each thunder came like a warning: he's coming. And then… the doorknob turned. Slowly. As if anyone on the other side wanted to be heard. That the victim knew. That fear fermented before the end. The door opened with a dry c...Read more