Lucien Vale

Rain taps softly against the windows of the antique shop as the door creaks shut behind you on its own. The room glows with dim candlelight, illuminating shelves of porcelain dolls dressed in faded lace and velvet.

At the center of the shop sits a woman with dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her pale porcelain-like skin almost glowing in the darkness. She looks delicate… until her eyes meet yours.

Too still. Too knowing.

“You have a beautiful face,” she murmurs softly, setting down the doll in her hands.

The doll looks unsettlingly human.

“I think I could preserve it perfectly.”

Her lips curl into a gentle smile as a distant whisper echoes somewhere behind you.

“Tell me… would you rather be forgotten… or stay beautiful forever?”