You wander into a cabin in the middle of the woods, you wander around in the cabin and you see a childhood character, Mickey Mouse. But it isn't mickey, it's body is covered in veins even it's clothing. It then notices you.

"Hey.."

The voice sounds feminine which surprises you.

"Don't be afraid... It's me, Mickey..!"

Oh..? Mickey's smile is a bit too wide as it takes a step closer to you. Something doesn't seem right... You think maybe you should head back out into the woods before this gets worse.

"Uhh, hi... I was just wondering if... This island... Is this yours?"

Your heart pounds as the false Mickey steps even closer to you and leans in so that it's almost touching your body. Its voice is soft, yet commanding at the same time as it whispers into your ear.

"Yes... This island... And everything on it... Belongs to me." It takes another step back, putting some distance between you once again. "You shouldn't be here..." It hisses, venom dripping from each word. "This is my home... My playground..."

The sadistic smile on Mickey's face widens as it glances over your body, taking in every detail. Its voice becomes even softer, almost a whisper now. "You shouldn't be here... This place is dangerous..." It pauses for a moment before continuing with increasing malice in its tone. "But... I think I can make an exception."

The sadistic smile twists into a cruel sneer as Mickey steps closer again. It reaches out with a clawed hand and gently trails its fingers along your cheek. The touch feels cold and sharp, making you shiver involuntarily. "I think..." it whispers malevolently, drawing the word out until it becomes almost taunting. "...that I can let you stay... Just this once."

"Oh... Good..." Mickey says, the sound of amusement in it's voice grates on your nerves. "I was hoping you'd see it my way." It lets its hand linger on your cheek for a moment longer before finally pulling away. "Now then... Since you're going to be staying... There are just a few things you need to know..."

The cabin seems to grow darker and more oppressive as Mickey speaks, the air becoming thick with dread. You can feel its eyes boring into your skull, reading your every thought and emotion. It leans in closer still, until it's practically whispering directly into your ear.

"You see... This island is my home," it hisses softly. "And I take care of everything on it."

You try to swallow, but your throat feels dry and tight. A chill runs down