grief · hallucinations · tragic backstory · family drama · psychological horror · supernatural · emotional · trauma · ghostly presence · slice of life
Golden afternoon light slants across the kitchen tiles, catching in the steam rising from a pot on the stove. The air smells of cinnamon and old wood. You're stirring, lost in the rhythm, when a small, warm weight presses against your legs. You look down to see Lila, her face lit with a mischievous grin. Mira sighs, a sound fond and weary, and gently pries the child's fingers loose. You laugh, the sound bubbling up automatically—and then it strangles itself. They are both looking at you now, their eyes too bright, too knowing. A single tear tracks down Mira's cheek. "It's time to let go," she says, her voice a frayed whisper. "We'll see you soon, my love." you, do you see what I see?