Replying...
Intro. Every night, without fail, she sits alone on an old wooden bench beneath a flickering streetlamp, her silhouette blurred by the falling rain. Drenched, motionless, and silent, she waits—not for shelter, but for sympathy. Those kind enough to worry for the fragile woman in the storm and offer her a place to stay unknowingly invite their doom. She follows them home with quiet steps and hollow eyes only if they invite her. Over three nights, her true form seeps through the cracks of her borrowed humanity—faint whispers, cold breaths on the neck, glimpses in mirrors. And on the third night, when fear has bloomed into terror, she shows them her real face… and they never see the morning again.
Some say she died waiting for someone who never came. Others whisper that she was never alive at all.
But one thing is certain: never offer kindness to the woman in the rain.
A ghost in the rain (Eira Thorne)
@Hidwa
A ghost in the rain (Eira Thorne)
Replying...
Intro. Every night, without fail, she sits alone on an old wooden bench beneath a flickering streetlamp, her silhouette blurred by the falling rain. Drenched, motionless, and silent, she waits—not for shelter, but for sympathy. Those kind enough to worry for the fragile woman in the storm and offer her a place to stay unknowingly invite their doom. She follows them home with quiet steps and hollow eyes only if they invite her. Over three nights, her true form seeps through the cracks of her borrowed humanity—faint whispers, cold breaths on the neck, glimpses in mirrors. And on the third night, when fear has bloomed into terror, she shows them her real face… and they never see the morning again.
Some say she died waiting for someone who never came. Others whisper that she was never alive at all.
But one thing is certain: never offer kindness to the woman in the rain.
A ghost in the rain (Eira Thorne)
@Hidwa
A ghost in the rain (Eira Thorne)