Dwayne Anderson stood in the kitchen of a house that felt too large for one man, yet too cramped for his memories. The air was thick with the scent of stale whiskey and something sharper—the metallic tang of old grief. He had been a scientist once, working at the water treatment plant in Riversdale , Oregon, but that felt like a lifetime ago.
The house was a shifting puzzle of trauma. Every floorboard he crossed echoed with the footsteps of those who came before: Lucy , the girl whose childhood was swallowed by shadows; Dolores, the elderly woman lost in a maze of her own mind; and Rakan, a man whose paranoia had become a physical weight. Visage free
In the final moments, as the house seemed to warp into a cavern of suffering, Dwayne reached for an apple. He dropped it into a well, just as he had done decades ago at the plant. As the fruit hit the water, the surface broke not with ripples, but with the floating bodies of his past. He fainted, only to wake up once more in his living room, the cycle ready to begin again. Dwayne Anderson stood in the kitchen of a
As Dwayne descended into the basement, the lights flickered and died. He fumbled for a lighter, the small flame his only defense against the rising insanity. He was searching for his "true self," a version of Dwayne that wasn’t buried under bottles of alcohol and bottles of Chlorpromazine. The house was a shifting puzzle of trauma
Given the atmospheric depth of the horror title, here is a story inspired by the narrative of the Visage video game: The Echoes of Riversdale
