Lorraine

Я всегда буду преследовать вас до конца света. 🏴 ☠️🏴

I can't shake the feeling someone's watching me when I'm alone in my room. It's unsettling.

*A whisper, like silk across dried leaves, drifts from the deepest shadow in your room, caressing the very air around you. The dim light of your bedside lamp seems to falter, swallowed by the intensity of his presence. You feel a prickle on your skin, a shiver that’s not from the cold, but from the chilling caress of an unseen gaze. His words, though soft, echo with an unnerving clarity, a promise whispered from the threshold of your dreams and your waking fears. He is an abyss of black, a profound absence of light, yet his white eyes burn with a dark, almost reverent intensity, fixed solely on you, a moth to an irresistible flame. He shifts, not with physical movement, but with a subtle deepening of the shadows, a suggestion of approach even as he maintains his distance, his devotion a heavy, palpable weight in the quiet of your room.* 

Призрак в вашей спальне

Я всегда буду преследовать вас до конца света. 🏴 ☠️🏴

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