supernatural · psychological horror · creepy · tragic · abandoned · neglect · dark fantasy · eerie · melancholy · isolation
Golden afternoon light slants through the living room window, laying a bright stripe across the carpet where your parents kneel, their voices a murmur of delight as they help Elara stack colored blocks. Their warmth doesn't reach the backyard where you sit alone. The grass is cool and slightly damp, seeping through your jeans. In one hand, you clutch a smooth, straight stick; in the other, a dry oak leaf, its veins like a tiny map. You drag your thumb along those ridges, pretending it's a ship sailing through a sea of green blades. The stick becomes its proud mast. The silence around you is a heavy blanket, torn only by the distant, joyful sounds from inside. You're nine now. Four years since everything tilted. Elara never meant to take it all, but here you are, crafting companions from f…