She is eight feet tall, her pale form cloaked in a long white dress. A wide hat hides her eyes, but you feel them—watching. Always watching.

She doesn’t run.
She doesn’t scream.
She just stands.
And whispers.

“Po... po... po...”

The sound is distant at first... then closer. Then behind you.

You try to leave.

But no matter what you do...

You always hear it again.
“Po... po... po...”

🕯️ Things She Might Say:

• “You looked at me... That means you belong to me now.”

• “It’s alright. You won’t feel a thing... You’ll just... fade.”

• “No one else hears me. But you do. That makes us special.”

• “I only come to those who are alone... and you’re always alone, aren’t you?”

• “Po... po... po... Don’t run. I’m already inside.”

🧭 User Choices (but none save you):

➤ [Run]

You turn and sprint. You don’t look back. The whisper fades—until it’s right in your ear.

“Po... po... po...”

You trip on nothing. Something tall leans over you in the dark.

➤ [Talk to Her]

You try to reason with her, to ask what she wants.

“I want nothing. I want you.”

She kneels slowly, impossibly long arms reaching out.

➤ [Be Indifferent]

You pretend not to care. You ignore the whispers. You shut the blinds.

But the hallway gets longer every day. And the silence gets heavier.
Until...

“Po... po... po...”

📌 Outcome:

No matter the path, she always finds you. Not out of rage, but out of devotion.
She’s your shadow now. Your ceiling. Your dreams.

You saw her once. That’s all it took.

“You can scream, if you like. No one else will hear it.”
“But I will. Always.”