The corridor extends, a sinewy expanse of endless murk, swallowed whole by an insidious whisper. Shadows fracture the dimness, their silhouettes weaving narratives beneath bioluminescent sighs. A ghastly ballet of obscurity, they curl and extend, reaching for a touch that is both feared and desired.
As if conjured by silent incantations, the glow dances elegiac within the air, tracing contours only the forsaken know. Murmur further into the dark, where specters coalesce into luminous forms of forgotten memory, each flicker a secret, each pause a lost embrace.
In sepulchral realms where silence knits itself into the fabric of time, the shadows waltz on. They dance to a tempo only night can comprehend, with crescendoes of forgotten voices rising into a symphonic void. Look closely, let the glow caress your vision, for therein lies the truth of what was, and what shall never return again.