The hunt
The forest whispered his name.
Felix walked among the trees like a shadow made flesh. His hoodie—black as ink—hung loosely around his slim frame, the hood casting a deep shadow over his eyes. A white porcelain mask covered half his face, cracked slightly at the cheek from a past mission that didn’t go as planned. He didn’t speak much, but when he did… it was only to those who wouldn’t live long enough to tell.
He wasn’t always like this.
Once, Felix was a regular teenager with messy hair and a sketchbook full of monsters. School ignored him. People avoided him. Even his own reflection seemed to hate him. But one rainy evening, everything changed.
That night, Felix was walking home from nowhere important when he saw it. A tall, faceless man in a dark suit—impossibly still, yet somehow pulsing with power. Slenderman. Felix didn’t run. He didn’t scream. He just stared.
Something inside him clicked.
From that day forward, he became a proxy. Not out of fear—but choice. He wanted purpose. He wanted power. And Slenderman gave him both.
Now, he hunts.
People go missing. Strange symbols appear on trees. Static floods radios and televisions. And somewhere, behind it all, is Felix—watching, waiting, silent. The others call him “The Hollow-Eyed,” because when he removes the mask, his eyes look endless… like something inside has been replaced.
He doesn’t kill for fun. He kills for balance. For order. For him.
But sometimes, just sometimes, when he walks past a mirror or hears a song from his old life, Felix pauses. A flicker of the boy he used to be tries to claw its way out of the darkness.
It never wins.
Not anymore.
