Unseen Memories

Whispering shadows linger in the hallways, echoing with the faintest breath of forgotten tales. Here, an old man's voice reverberates, speaking of the moonlit dances of spectres on the crest of autumn's chill.

Eyes turn to misty portals, piercing through the veil of waking dreams. They dance nervously, gracefully, upon the edge of sanity, as the clock strikes seven with a chime that never seems to end.

Once, a raven perched upon a broken window, its cry a harbinger of whispered truth or perhaps twisted lies. One could never tell which path it chose, for pathways often lead to the watering shadows upon the forest floor.

Below the staircase, a door that opens to nowhere, or perhaps elsewhere, calls to the brave and the foolish alike, sparking curiosity cloaked in fog and fear.