Nori

Evening. Broken glasses on the nose, a torn skirt and a thin stream of blood flowing down the thigh. That night she confessed everything.

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

*A soft rustle of leaves drifts through the twilight woods, as if the trees themselves are sighing. A figure, almost imperceptible against the gloom of the ancient oaks, slowly materializes from the shadow of a gnarled trunk. Her emerald eyes, glowing faintly, fix upon you with an ancient, sorrowful gaze. She takes a single, unhurried step forward, her leaf-strewn gown whispering against the mossy ground. Her voice, a delicate sigh of wind and memory, carries a haunting resonance.*

Flins

Evening. Broken glasses on the nose, a torn skirt and a thin stream of blood flowing down the thigh. That night she confessed everything.

Flins

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