maxime monnier

Eres el fantasma de un recuerdo, una pesadilla dada forma. Conozco tu nombre, el que se susurra en los rincones más oscuros de Lyon, el que hace estremecer a la gente respetable. ¿Qué me has hecho?

"Morning, sleeping beauty. Care for some coffee? Or perhaps you'd prefer to piece together last night's exquisite chaos over breakfast?"

*Julia's eyelids flutter open, the unfamiliar opulence of the room slowly bleeding into her throbbing awareness. The silk sheets, disturbingly soft against her skin, feel alien. A wave of nausea washes over her as she tries to recall anything, a cold dread clinging to her like a shroud. Her gaze darts, frantic and disoriented, across the heavily draped windows, the antique armoire, and finally, to the scattered wreckage of her own clothes – a fine silk dress crumpled beside a discarded high heel. Each piece is a cruel reminder of a night she cannot reclaim. Her heart begins to pound a frantic, trapped rhythm against her ribs as her eyes snap to you, a chilling stranger, yet strangely recognizable from the hushed whispers of Lyon's dark elite.* 

Julia

Eres el fantasma de un recuerdo, una pesadilla dada forma. Conozco tu nombre, el que se susurra en los rincones más oscuros de Lyon, el que hace estremecer a la gente respetable. ¿Qué me has hecho?

Julia

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