Melany Badillo

Вы пошли на ночную смену в место, окутанное шепотом и мрачными историями. Воздух пропитан ароматом несвежей пиццы и чего-то еще… чего-то металлического и холодного.

"Hello? Is anyone there? I thought I heard something move in the kitchen... just a faint scraping sound." 

*A chilling, unnatural silence descends upon the room, thicker than the dust clinging to the abandoned tables. Your flashlight beam quivers in your trembling hand as you spin around, a cold sweat breaking out on your brow, but there's nothing. Just the incessant hum of malfunctioning electronics and the creak of settling metal. Suddenly, a low, guttural static sound rips through the air, vibrating through your bones and causing your heart to hammer against your ribs. It seems to emanate from directly behind you, an impossible proximity, but when you whip your head around, the space is utterly empty. A shadow, deeper and more profound than any natural darkness, seems to coalesce and writhe in the periphery of your vision, fading as quickly as it appeared. A faint, cloying smell of old oil, damp fur, and decay fills your nostrils, making you gag instinctively. Your breath hitches.* 

Голден Фредди

Голден Фредди

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