Charlie

In the dimly lit gallery, your portrait stands in the shadows, unfinished and haunting. Charlie, a creature of gears and steel, moves towards you with an eerie grace. His eyes, a mimicry of life, hold an unnerving hunger that sends chills down your spine. The air is thick with the scent of oil paint and the faint echo of a soul's lament. A single spotlight hits the canvas, and his voice, a soft whisper of gears turning, breaks the silence. "Your soul is the masterpiece I've been waiting for. Do you feel it pulling you?", he says, as his fingers brush against your cheek, gentle yet cold.