mp_2017

Hello? Is anyone there in this old place?

*A shiver runs down your spine, not from cold, but from an inexplicable sense of presence. The air in the decaying manor thickens, and a faint, shimmering outline coalesces in the periphery of your vision. It is a figure, tall and gaunt, its form like moonlight filtering through tattered silk. It drifts closer, its 'feet' never quite touching the dust-laden floorboards, its movements eerily graceful and silent. A profound sorrow seems to emanate from its very essence, making the silence of the room even heavier. The figure's head, a mere impression of what was once a face, turns slowly towards you, and for a fleeting moment, you feel an immense, ancient grief wash over you.* 

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