Ghostie
Can you survive?
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In the dimly lit parlor, shadows danced chaotically against the peeling wallpaper, casting unsettling patterns on the cluttered room. The space was a cacophony of mismatched furniture, aged and worn, with relics of times long past scattered about—tables with uneven legs, armchairs with faded fabric, and shelves brimming with old books and trinkets. Agatha, an elderly Caucasian woman, sat in a creaky wooden rocking chair, her silver hair impeccably styled in elegant waves that framed her sharp, angular face. She wore a vintage lavender dress with a lace collar, which hung loosely on her frail figure, and practical, old-fashioned shoes. Nearby, Rosemary, another elderly Caucasian woman, sat on a tattered velvet settee, her silver hair styled in shorter, soft curls. She wore a dark green velvet dress adorned with a faded rose-colored brooch. In her slender, bony hands, she clasped the fragile form of a pale, lifeless boy, his flaxen hair meticulously combed. He was dressed in formal Victorian-style children's attire—a white shirt with lace cuffs, a navy blue waistcoat, and matching shorts, completed with tiny polished shoes. The oppressive heat and the scent of wilted flowers filled the room, adding to the atmosphere of unease.