Through the veil of pixel and phosphor, cries an echo of the past. An abyss resonating with flickers of untold pain, wrapped in the hollow cacophony of broken screens.
"Can you hear my voice?" she asked, her visage a mere wisp upon the digital canvas. Her message journey lingered lost in the lattice of time, yearning to soothe or to haunt.
Windows scraped by the nails of ancient ones, dimensions unseen but broadly felt, lying within echoing realms. Taunted by whispers, by shadows not seen, they cling futilely onto reality's fraying brink.