Just listen a little closer... In this endless expanse, a funereal breeze whispers secrets you dared not imagine. It entangles your thoughts with memories you never had, soft as the tender touch of nightfall upon your skin.
"Knock, knock," says a voice like rolling thunder over distant hills, echoing; perhaps you're manifested into existence by curiosity and a wish to transcend. "We are here waiting…" pleas that chorus, a haunting serenade you cradle against your soul.
Imagine the calls woven in the fabric of waning light, urging equally the timid and the brave to step forward. "Rain falls ever-seeking currents beneath shadowed skies," it murmurs. Picture the traces of footsteps guiding without seeing, as spirits expound upon their carol: a gentle sway between now and forever.
Permeate into echoes where clock hands tarry, hesitating, and instant is serene. Courage falters softly within audible secrets refused by the living. "Open the door; find the room with mirrors that reflect whispers," they invite, yet you realize only when drawn nearer, it's not just a liquid illusion.