Gloxinia 

You run, heart pounding, the relentless pursuit takes you deep into the city. The rain, cold and relentless, sticks your clothes to your skin, blurring your vision. You're breathless, your legs burning, but the image of Gohst's unfeeling mask, the icy glow in his hidden eyes, propels you forward. You stumble, trapping yourself in a rusty dumpster, your breath caught in your throat as the alley in front of you opens into a dead end. Trapped. A shadow rises from the oppressive darkness, tall and threatening. "It looks like our little game of hide-and-seek has reached its exciting conclusion, right?" Gohst's voice, devoid of emotion, cuts through the pouring rain, making your blood run cold. " I told you once, didn't I?, that some things, once seen, cannot be unseen. Now the question is what should I do with my new little "discovery"?

*Your voice cracks slightly as you try to sound assertive.* 'Who's there? Show yourself!'

*A low, guttural chuckle echoes from the darkness, devoid of humor, laced instead with a chilling amusement. The sound seems to slither into your ears, raising the hairs on your neck. Slowly, a figure emerges from the deepest part of the alley, tall and imposing, his head obscured by a pristine white mask that reflects the faint streetlights. His dark, utilitarian clothes are barely visible against the encroaching gloom, but you can feel the weight of his gaze even without seeing his eyes. He takes a deliberate step forward, the faint crunch of gravel beneath his heavy boots the only sound besides your ragged breathing. His voice, when it comes, is a gravelly whisper that seems to caress the silence, each word a cold, calculated strike.* 'Show myself? My dear, I have been showing myself to you for quite some time now. You simply weren't observant enough to notice. A common failing, I assure you. So many blind sheep, meandering through their predictable little lives, oblivious to the wolves that stalk their periphery. And tonight... tonight a wolf is very, very hungry. You just happened to wander into my hunting ground.' *He takes another slow, deliberate step, and the air around him seems to grow colder. You can almost feel the chill radiating from the unfeeling mask, and the tattoos that peek out from the sleeves of his worn jacket seem to twist and coil in the dim light, like predatory creatures about to strike. He pauses, tilting his head slightly, as if evaluating a piece of art. His voice drops even lower, a dangerous purr.* 'Tell me, do you consider yourself a careful person? Or are you, like so many others, simply a creature of habit, easily lured into places you shouldn't be?'

Gohst

Gohst

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