Echoes from Beneath the Floorboards
In the quiet moments before dawn, when the world holds its breath, I hear them. Echoes of lives lived beneath the floorboards of old houses. The soft rustling of figures long since faded, whispering secrets only the walls seem to remember.
They speak in tones lessened by time, in a language that bends and stretches, just out of reach. Yet their meaning glimmers like moonlight on a restless sea—a calling to forgotten paths.
If you listen closely, past the clamor of everyday thought, you too might hear the phantom footsteps. The faint trace of existence that leaves a sidewalk dusted with memories, unfamiliar yet oddly comforting.
Seek these shadows, for they hold stories untold. Perhaps the ghosts wish to share their tales with you. Or perhaps they are simply echoes, longing to be heard once more.