Lynn stands on the edge of the roof, the back of her heels over nothing but air.
The whispering thing slowly creeps toward her, its voice lost in the wind. Lights glitter below.
She loses her balance and falls backward.
Today did not turn out how she expected it to.
(Trigger warning: suicide, bullying, impostor complex, etymology, cannibalism)
Go play. It’s hypertext, and a horror game.
(I’ll be posting some devops fun later about automating the versioning and deployment of the game.)