Empty Stage

The wind carries the lost soliloquy, destined to haunt the shadowed rafters for eternity.

Once, the stage was alive with spectral applause, the curtain a living sea of crimson. Now, silence breaks only to reveal the echo of forgotten dialogues — curtains fall as dusk blankets the world's end.

Voices linger in the cracks of the floorboards, their tales woven into the very timber, a tapestry of mischief and mythology.

Wanderer of empty corridors, listen. The breeze carries whispers of unseen lights guiding the lost. They speak in riddles, omens of a destiny sealed in the sand.

Underneath the main stage, a forgotten trapdoor creaks, invoking curiosity of the daring. Treasures of antiquity lie trapped in time, waiting for the brave.

Gaze upon the dust of ages that settles, a gentle reminder of all that was, and all that could be again. Each grain a universe of stories, each story a whisper of the void.