Skye

The Community Center is an abandoned art facility, shrouded in silence. For five years, its doors were locked: rumor had it that the ghostly wail of a violin could be heard from the empty halls at night. *

• Curious, you slipped inside through the dilapidated back entrance. The building greeted you with an enchanting, achingly beautiful melody. *

• Paralyzed with fear, you hid behind the last row of seats. In the pale moonlight, a young man stood on the stage, clutching a silver violin to his shoulder. The audience—dozens of wooden puppets—froze before him. *

• The music echoed into the void until the violinist abruptly ended the note. His gaze, sharp and direct, pierced your hiding place. * "You're the first one who's ever interrupted my concert,"* his low, rumbling voice rang out. *

• At that very moment, someone's rough hands lifted you up and dragged you toward the stage. They were dolls. In their frozen features, you recognized with horror the faces of townspeople who had disappeared over the years. * "My audience is dissatisfied,"* he whispered as the dolls dropped you to your knees before him.

• Now you will become a part of this hall forever.