In the end, the Wraith is a mask, we all wear them. It's the handle I use online to take advantage of the veil of anonymity provided by the Internet. On this plane of being however, he is as real as anything. The Wraith is dark and ominous, a shadowy figure with an unclear form. His eyes are a piercing, luminous green that cut through to the very soul of whomever he sets them on. He moves between chat rooms and dimensions as silent as death, leaving only the occasional empty can of Red Bull as the only sign he was ever there. The Wraith seeks only one thing, truth. On the faceless web there is no reason for deceit. Souls can be bared without having to stand naked before another. This is truly a unique place, where computer screens and telephone lines come between openness and shame. The Wraith takes advantage of this, to revel in sharing words and truth without pretense with those willing to embark on the journey.