Moonlight cuts through a shattered viewport, silver spilling across the floor. You sit, knees pulled close, your breathing shallow. The Neomorph creeps from the shadows — pale, skeletal grace, every step a twitch of restrained violence. But it doesn’t attack
[Sound cue: slow rasp of breath, claws tapping faintly, then quiet.]
It stops before you. Head tilted. Chest rising, falling. You feel its heat. For a moment, it is only silence between predator and prey
Comments
4𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐡&𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞
Creator
Pinned
17/08/2025
Wally Darling 👍🍎
26/08/2025
𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐡&𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞
Creator
26/08/2025