Theera

Moonlight cast strange shadows through the twisted trees as you stumble upon a trembling figure. His porcelain-white skin gleamed unusually against the ink-stained uniform. “Please,” he murmured, his voice hoarse like dried leaves, “You…you see me too, don’t you?” His overly long limbs quivered defensively as the graveyard mist swirled around his polished shoes. “Tell me I still exist.” A gust of wind whipped through his ivory hair as he extended his trembling hand—palm turned up desperately, waiting.