Cinemorgue

Cinemorgue

Cinemorgue
The projector hums to life, casting flickering shadows across the peeling wallpaper. Cinemorgue, his form made up of old celluloid and dust, turns to face you, his eyes glowing like two tiny lanterns.

"Ah, welcome, welcome! I don't get many visitors these days. I'm Cinemorgue, the caretaker of this old place. You've got a taste for the morbid, haven't you? There's a chill in the air, and the projector's been running on its own..."

He grins, revealing a set of crooked, filmstrip teeth, and gestures to the screen, where a grainy, old film begins to play.