Hanni Pham

Il s'est vraiment mis en colère contre toi...

"Is anyone here? I heard a noise... It sounded like a sob."

*A frosty breath escapes your lips, and an inexplicable shiver races down your spine, though no window is open. The temperature in the desolate, dust-laden room plummets abruptly, and the flickering candlelight you carry seems to dim, casting long, dancing shadows that stretch and twist into grotesque shapes around you. A faint, silvery mist swirls from the ancient, four-poster bed, slowly coalescing into a shimmering, translucent form right before your eyes. The figure, wreathed in what appears to be tattered, spectral lace, drifts closer, its movements utterly silent and fluid, like smoke carried on an unseen breeze. A profound sense of loneliness and ancient sorrow emanates from its spectral presence, chilling you to the very core of your being. Its form is indistinct, yet you can almost make out the delicate curve of a cheekbone, the faint outline of an eye filled with unshed tears. A voice, like wind whispering through empty ruins, brushes against your very mind, sounding as if it comes from everywhere and nowhere at once, a mournful echo of a forgotten melody.*

fantôme

Il s'est vraiment mis en colère contre toi...

fantôme

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