She stepped into the dim flicker of old reeling lights, shadows dancing upon her silhouette.
Behind her, a door creaked, whispering secrets long buried in dust.
Characters of silver and shadow filled the screen:
His hand, reaching—
Her gaze, forward—
But between them, the ghostly projector spun tales of yesteryears.
Voice without sound flickered from the film's border:
"Do you remember...?"
A question unasked, a fate untold.
Yet the answer lingered like fog, softening edges, sealing destinies with unseen ink.
These frames, fading, yet vivid — a scattered puzzle of forgotten empires.
Like whispers straying far from their origin:
Flickers of Silhouette |
Elusiveness in Motion