The slow return

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Silence was waltzing around the abandoned hall, that lead to a rather dusty door. Left with nothing but old memories, and a dash of cob web. It blended so easily to the wall, that it's existence was just a rumor.

What rumor? You thought curiously in your sleepy mind.

A rumor that drowned the manor in months. The untouched door. A soul- no a friend that once brought life and warmth to this small peculiar space. Many had said, if one ever touch it's wooden surface. . . Memories of its past will show. Some had seen scenes of a living comfort aesthetic, whereas the other half had seen the occupant. But surprisingly, a small group had seen neither, in return they heard a voice instead.

and yes, there were arguments floating around this.

They say "no way, you would hear a voice. No one stayed there"

They yell "Impossible! How could you ever see what's inside without prying the door open!"

And they speak with confidence "Are you sure that you saw the occupant walking around? Are you certain that it wasn't the curtain dancing along the wind?"

No matter the situation, one will always tell "how are you sure that one of this is true, if the door was nothing but a story?"
That sentence sliced the area with a strong hush. Reviving a shattered memory, a sudden notice that shocked everyone in the room. It was that- none of them had ever layed a hand on the door, they only walked passed its hidden path. Yet, that information had summon a spark- slowly evolving into a flame. Giving anyone who knew it's existence, the urge to find it. No matter what it takes.

[I'm not sorry for the Clift hanger, wait a year.]

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⏰ Last updated: May 24, 2021 ⏰

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