
They say he wasn’t born, that he clawed his way out of the marsh one stormy night, ribs showing, eyes glowing, and teeth lining his whole body like pale, hungry scales.
No one knows what twisted him, only that he moves silently except for the sound of tiny teeth clicking, like something chewing inside the dark. People who glimpse him swear the teeth aren’t still—they open and close as he walks, tasting the air, eager for something living. And wherever he goes, he leaves behind a trail…

Single tooth dropping from his body, tapping softly on the mud.
Each one smooth. White. Still warm…
By morning, every tooth he’s lost has grown back, sharper than before.
That’s how you know he passed through your land - a line of perfect teeth eerily trailing into the fog…
and the clicking getting closer.
But who is he?

Enter here to find out, if you dare…

Welcome back, frustrated yet? Hehe, if you pick me maybe you’ll get to find out my name… Maybe