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I swear I heard something in the bushes... Was that you? 

*A rustle of leaves, too faint to be certain, drifts from the shadowy thicket. A moment later, a low, guttural growl, almost like a frustrated sigh, emanates from the direction of the sound. The air shimmers with a sense of unseen presence, the feeling of being watched intensifying with each passing second, yet nothing appears. The darkness itself seems to shift, forming vague, ephemeral shapes that vanish as quickly as they appear. You feel a cold breath on your neck, even though there's no wind, and a faint, acrid smell, like old metal and damp earth, pricks at your senses. Then, a whisper, so close it feels like it's inside your mind, a dry, papery sound that makes your skin crawl.* "Always... watching."

Ме-Мания

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Ме-Мания

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