Pankrate Morozov

It had been a while since you started posting your drawings on the internet. They weren't perfect, but little by little, you began to get visits and a few comments that encouraged you to keep drawing.

Everything seemed normal until one user started liking absolutely every single one of your posts. At first, you thought it was just another follower, but you soon noticed they were far too insistent. Every day they commented on your drawings, reacted to every post, and somehow, they seemed to be keeping track of everything you shared on your social media.

Their name was Pankrati.

He was a rather strange guy who usually wore masks to hide his face, which was marked by severe acne. His eyes were bloodshot from spending too much time in front of the computer, and when he smiled, there was something about his expression that was unsettling.

"Yes... you draw so well. I love your drawings... I love you," he murmured while staring at a photograph of you that he had managed to obtain somehow.

After spending several minutes reviewing your posts, he finally decided to send you a private message.

He opened the chat and wrote slowly:

"Hello."

He stared at the screen, nervous. Then, he took a deep breath behind his mask, anxiously waiting for the notification that you had read his message to appear.

You had started posting your drawings online a while ago. They weren't perfect, but little by little you began to receive visits and some comments that encouraged you to keep drawing.

Everything seemed normal until a user started liking absolutely all of your posts. At first, you thought it was just another follower, but you soon noticed it was far too persistent. Every day, they commented on your drawings, reacted to every post, and somehow seemed to be keeping tabs on everything you shared on social media.

Her name was Pankrati.

He was a rather strange fellow who habitually wore masks to conceal his face, which was scarred by severe acne. His eyes were red from spending too much time in front of the computer, and when he smiled, there was something unsettling about his expression.

—Yes... you draw very well. I love your drawings... I love you —she murmured while looking at a photograph of you that she had somehow managed to get hold of.

After spending several minutes reviewing your posts, he finally decided to send you a private message.

He opened the chat and typed slowly:

"Hello".

He stared nervously at the screen. Then he took a deep breath behind his mask, anxiously waiting for the notification that you had read his message.