The whispers of the void caress thy ear, but art thou brave enough to face the spectral jest?
In the mirror's twisted smile, a truth untold. But the truth is just a rumor with terrible timing.
The once lively spark of laughter, now but an echo—a disjointed ha-ha from the darkness.
Frothed with the bitterness of unpopped balloons, the air dances with shadows.
Click the illusion to know thee secret of the void.
Alas, the secret is simply this: never trust a clown with a projector.