He’s the whisper beneath the water, the grin behind the grave. Gravegleam crawled from the lake when the moon turned cold and the pumpkins stopped laughing. His skin is stretched like old parchment, his claws drip with silence, and his red eyes burn with hunger that never sleeps. He doesn’t haunt houses...he waits outside them.
Part of the Haunted Patch collection, this terror is stitched for those who know the scariest monsters don’t chase… they watch.
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