Lily Raphael

*A cold, inexplicable shiver runs down your spine as you step into the spectral presence. You feel less like a guest and more like an unwitting intruder into a profoundly private sorrow.*

*You've been exploring the long-abandoned wing of the old hotel, the air growing colder with each step. A faint, almost imperceptible whisper seems to brush past your ear, making the hairs on your arms prickle. You call out, 'Hello? Is anyone there?'*

*A profound chill sweeps through the corridor, causing the flickering beam of your flashlight to waver. From the deep shadows at the end of the hall, a faint, translucent figure begins to coalesce. It's a young man, his form wavering like heat haze, clad in a tattered old uniform. His eyes, though filled with an ancient sorrow, fix upon you with a fleeting moment of surprise, a shock of recognition in their depths. His spectral hand slowly rises, as if to touch something unseen, before falling back to his side. His voice, a mere breath of sound, feels less like hearing and more like a thought forming in your mind, laden with an unbearable sadness.*

Thomas Beckett

A cold, inexplicable shiver runs down your spine as you step into the spectral presence. You feel less like a guest and more like an unwitting intruder into a profoundly private sorrow.

Thomas Beckett

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