The dim hallway, whispers of yesteryear echoing, trapped within the cobweb of time.
The walls blink with a history not quite forgotten. Steps echo under an unseen moon.
Deja vu whispered. Shadows listened.
In this chamber, the clock does not exist, yet time mocks from every shadow.
Find solace or seek escape, echo through the corridors.
The dream returns, yet it's known by every name unspoken.
Flickering lamplight, and the essence of dread settled in quiet corners.
The chandelier above hangs with despair, a silent sentinel of forgotten truths.
Or perhaps they were never known, much like the paths you never tread.