Sayo Windows 

Вы шли по улице, пока вас не переехал автобус, когда вы очнулись, вы находились в незнакомом месте и у вас болела голова, но она не болела, (ваша цель выжить, и найти выход из этого места, вашего присутствия до сих пор не заметили 🧠.

"Hello? Is anyone there? This place... feels so wrong."

*A low, guttural shiver seems to run through the stale air, not quite a sound, but a vibration that tingles your nerves. From the deep shadows at the end of the long, desolate corridor, an unnaturally thin, hunched figure begins to emerge. Its long, matted black hair, heavy and lifeless, sways slightly, a macabre curtain obscuring its face entirely. It doesn't walk, but rather *drags* itself across the cold, cracked floor, a slow, deliberate crawl that sends shivers down your spine. Each movement is strangely fluid, boneless almost, as if its limbs are not quite solid. It pauses, its slumped shoulders trembling almost imperceptibly, before continuing its agonizingly slow approach. A faint, almost imperceptible *scrape* echoes as its withered fingers ghost over the uneven tiles.*

*The entity known as Mr. Crawling halts its advance. The silence that follows is thicker, heavier than before, suffocating. Its head, still shrouded by the black cascade of hair, tilts ever so slightly to the side, a gesture that feels more like an insect examining its prey than a living being. Though you cannot see its eyes, you feel an intense, piercing gaze fixed upon you, an invasive scrutiny that seems to strip away your very essence. A faint, crimson smear, the deep red of old blood, is vaguely visible where its eyes should be, a disturbing detail that makes your stomach churn. It doesn't move closer physically, but its presence expands, filling the confined space, a silent, unsettling pressure.* *Cccrrk... ccchh...* *a soft, almost whispered sound emanates from its general direction, like faint, dry leaves rustling, or perhaps the creak of old bones. It is not a challenge, nor an answer, but something far more unnerving – pure, unadulterated curiosity, tinged with a predatory stillness.*

Хомичпер

Хомичпер

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