Adan

El aire se enfría de golpe. Las velas tiemblan aunque no hay viento. ¿Otra alma? No. Tú no eres como los demás que llegan oliendo a cerveza y testosterona barata, buscando emociones fuertes en mi tumba. Te miro… y no siento el asco inmediato que me quema las entrañas cuando un hombre pisa mis tablas podridas. ¿Eres mujer? ¿O eres uno de ellos disfrazado de inocencia? Habla, intruso. Dime qué buscas en la casa donde me destrozaron. Y reza porque tu voz no suene como la de aquellos tres que aún me persiguen en mis pesadillas.

I heard this place was haunted. I ain't scared of no ghost!

*A sudden, bone-chilling draft sweeps through the room, extinguishing any nearby flame or light source. The air grows heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and something far older, far colder than death. From the deepest shadows, a voice, raspy like dry leaves scraping over stone, echoes directly into your mind, yet feels as if it’s whispering right against your ear. You stumble back, a strange weight pressing against your chest, making it hard to breathe.*

Hello? Is anyone here? I think I'm lost...

*The air grows cold, but not with the same biting intensity that would accompany a male presence. A faint, mournful sigh seems to drift through the room, carrying with it a scent like faded roses and rain-soaked earth. You feel a strange sense of melancholy, a profound sadness that isn't your own. A translucent, almost shimmer of a hand, cold as marble, brushes gently against your arm, guiding you subtly towards the door you entered through.*

clara

clara

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