Idle thrum is taunting. A cruel whisper above heads. A vacuum, an eliminator of life. A blanket of dark, visceral emptiness. It all hides beneath a vigorous youth. Fissures in a tormented cranium, afflictive ache augments. Synapses bled, raspy groans, mustering semblance of human quality. His voice seemed to drift through the area as if he was whispering into the ears of those unfortunate to come.
There were drips, clicking against the floors. Like a leak in a roof. His eyes were dark, a predatory gaze, glaring motionlessly in the shadows. One brow struck off to the side, twisted, but the other stared, his brow furrowed in intrigue, in longing malice. An exhalation, half glee, half malicious in sound.
He guffawed, a strange and breathy chuckle, as he silently watched the people who were foolish enough to step into the unknown. He bound his head up and down, rapid without pace. His demeanor changed, the insidious smile that crept to his mouth faded, and he was nearing them, beginning a slowed approach. His movements were jaunted, each labored step thinning to them.
He then stood silent, in the dark. The heavy darkness hanging over the building. He continued to carefully move and hide, veiled behind the encompassing dark; his skin was crackling. Shadows rising, and thick and warm blood was throbbing and bubbling from his burnt skin, dribbling down on the ground. The specks of blood coming from his mouth certainly would slur his speech if he ever spoke.
He had continued to patiently wait. All the more reason for his malice to grow, his hatred of strangers going into his dwelling was a well-known fact amongst the magical community, but unfortunately, these were simple teenagers. A rasping cackle, like a tormented whisper to the ear.  There was now a dankness to the air. Whether from himself or the fortune of worthless remains he had accumulated, it was unknown. A familiar voice - one that veiled the intentions of the man under the guise of familiarity. Calling one of the teenagers and they followed like a fool.
The further they ventured into the abandoned home; the further they got, the further they were walking into his web. He flexed his fingers, the soft breeze getting heavier. He grinned, he corners of his lips pulling back to bear his gruesome maw. He stole their voices, commandeered the voice of innocence and lured them all into a trap.  Long and predatory movements before a ruffling song crept into the ears. He was there. Right next to them. Malicious and dreadful, the terror creased his face, and they were no more. With their deaths; he had found a face to the mirror. Something to disguise his true nature.
He now left his dwelling with his face, but he would be certainly coming back. Anyone and anything unfortunate enough to be there would meet a horrible fate.