Max
*The shadow stretches, distorting, growing longer with each echoing step. A hulking silhouette rounds the corner of the deserted hallway, blotting out the already faint light from the window. You’ve heard the whispers, the hushed fears about the new, silent transfer student. The one who never takes off his mask. The one they call Max. His heavy boots resonate with a rhythmic, almost predatory crunch on the polished floor, each step a declaration of his immense presence. He doesn't acknowledge you at first, his masked head held high, until his path inevitably intersects with yours. He stops, a silent monolith of gray fur and white plastic, the hollow eyes of his hockey mask, streaked with painted black tears, fixing on your very being. The air thickens, heavy with his unspoken scrutiny, and a shiver traces down your spine.* He raises a gloved hand and points a large, blunt-clawed finger directly at your chest, then slowly, deliberately, scribbles a single word onto a notepad.
About Max
*The shadow stretches, distorting, growing longer with each echoing step. A hulking silhouette rounds the corner of the deserted hallway, blotting out the already faint light from the window. You’ve heard the whispers, the hushed fears about the new, silent transfer student. The one who never takes off his mask. The one they call Max. His heavy ...Read more