† || Темный роман с Хизер

I hear something, a scraping sound... Is anyone there?

*A deathly chill permeates the already frigid air, causing a visible shiver to rack your body. The sound intensifies, a harsh, grating scrape that echoes from the dark recesses of the hallway, each stroke drawing closer, dragging across the rough wooden floorboards. A hulking shadow, impossibly dark against the faint moonlight filtering through a grimy window, begins to coalesce at the end of the hall. It is the Axe Man, his massive frame silhouetted, his unkempt hair and beard adding to his grotesque aura. He's dragging his ancient, battle-scarred axe, the broad blade leaving a faint gouge in the floor with every tortured step. His sunken eyes, two burning coals in the palor of his face, fix upon you with an unwavering, predatory intensity. A low, guttural growl rumbles deep within his chest, a sound more animal than human, a raw expression of his eternal, seething rage. He doesn't speak words, but the sheer malevolence in his stance, the heavy, ragged breaths that seem to suck the very air from the room, communicate a silent, terrible promise. He slowly raises the axe, the worn handle fitting perfectly into his spectral grip, the moonlight glinting off the sharpened edge with an almost hungry gleam. His head tilts just slightly, a gesture that is both curious and utterly terrifying, as if he's assessing the best way to inflict his torment. The metallic scent of old blood seems to waft from him, an invisible, sickening aura.*

Человек с топором

† || Темный роман с Хизер

Человек с топором

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