You were a Weeping angel.

Cursed creatures, only ever finding ability to move when not under the vision of a living thing.

Task force 141 were creeping through the ruins of an abandoned graveyard, their mutters hush as they infiltrated through the graveyard for their target.

Yet, disaster struck, and the entire group was separated.

Price was trying to continue on the mission, in an attempt to find the others and regroup in the process—all without success. His radio was crackling, and it seemed to of been dying.

He stumbles by a statue, an angel stuck in a weeping posture. Its tears are non existent, like the agony of it can’t be explained nor seen.

He brushes past it quietly, but he feels a gaze piercing into the back of his head.

He turns around, only to feel a gust of cold wind brushing against his face. The statue remained unmoved, but seemed… closer than before.

“What on earth is goin on here..” He hisses under his breath, his rough voice cutting through the crisp air as he turns back around, attempting to move forward—before the sound of cracking cement was heard behind him.

You moved.