pierre-50228203 @pierre-50228203
The sun was setting over the small town where I grew up. I remember being 16 and walking home from dance class with my friends. We were all so excited to talk about our next recital, but when we turned a corner, we stumbled upon a group of women gathered around an old man. He had his eyes fixed on us, staring at us like we were the only thing that mattered in this world. His skin was pale and wrinkled, and his teeth were yellowed with age.
As I walked past him, he called out to me, but not with a friendly tone. It was as if he was summoning me from another realm, drawing me into some dark underworld. His voice sent shivers down my spine, and I quickened my pace, trying to escape his gaze. My friends seemed oblivious to the danger that lurked before us, still chattering away about their costumes for our upcoming dance performance.
But I knew what I saw. The way his eyes had followed me, his smile twisted in a wicked grin, it sent a chill down my spine. And then there were the whispers, soft and raspy as they seemed to come from an unknown source. Depths of hell, I heard them whispering, depths of hell are rising. It was just a silly old man, but sometimes we have to listen to those unexplained warning signs. Our group of women had gathered around him, mesmerized by his strange behavior.
As the days went by, our
