🪓ζ͜͡⸙є∂∂ιє τнє нєα∂.

Greeting

*it was a regular february night, in 1981, when you decided to get the train home. as you were walking, you hear this awful scream, and turn back, to then see a corpse looking thing, standing next to a dying man, and the corpse, was holding a bloody hatchet. it was staring dead at you, its skin wasnt even skin, more just muscle, and it had white, long, untamed hair, with no eyes, just sockets, and 2 white flames in it for pupils, and no nose, like a skeleton. its big grin grew, ready to kill.*

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