What Sleeps – Extrait 27
wind. Kalina stepped inside. The air was thick, damp, a slow, heavy scent of rain-soaked wood and something else—something sharp, metallic, a faint, sweet decay that pressed against her skin. The hallway stretched, narrow, dark, the pale, grey light twisting, a faint, shivering glow that seemed to cling to the walls. And then she saw her. The old woman sat at the end of the hallway, her back bent, her fingers pale, thin, twisted like the gnarled branches of an ancient tree. Her hair was a thin, silver veil that fell across her face, her shoulders draped in a dark, wet shawl that dripped, twisted, melted into the damp air. She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just sat there, a shadow pressed against the pale, grey light. Kalina’s breath caught, the ache a slow, sharp twist beneath her ribs. “Hello?” Her voice was too thin, too soft, swallowed by the quiet. The old woman didn’t turn. Didn’t speak. Just stared, her pale, dark eyes tracing the rain that twisted against the window, the pale light a faint, silver glow against her withered face. Kalina stepped closer, her fingers tight against her coat, her breath sharp, thin. “I… I saw you. I saw you before. You… you spoke to me.” The old woman’s head tilted, just slightly, her pale, silver hair slipping across her face. Her lips moved, just a faint, slow quiver, but no sound came. Kalina’s pulse was a slow, heavy drumbeat, her chest tight, the ache twisting, pressing. “Please… please tell me who you are. Tell me what you meant. Tell me who he is.” “Who… he is…” The old woman’s voice was a faint, shivering breath, a whisper tangled in the rain. “A name… a shadow…” “Who? Who is he?” Kalina’s voice was too fast, too thin, cracking. “Andrei? Is it Andrei? Did you know him?” The old woman’s fingers twitched, her pale, thin hands curling against the wet shawl, her breath a faint, shivering mist. “A name… that never left. A shadow… that never spoke.” “But you spoke. You spoke to me. You said… you said to tell him… that you’re sorry.” Kalina’s voice was tangled, desperate, her fingers white, stiff. “Why? Who is he? Who are you?” “A name… a ghost…” The old woman’s voice was softer now, a faint, dying thread. “A name that twisted around me… a shadow that followed…” “I don’t understand.” Kalina stepped closer, the ache twisting, sharp, pressing against her chest. “Please… tell me who he is. Tell me why you said it. Tell me why you… why you… why you died.” But the old woman’s fingers tightened, her pale, twisted hands pressing against the shawl, her eyes dark, empty, staring into the rain. “He never left…” she whispered, her voice a faint, hollow breath. “Never left… but never stayed…” “Andrei?” Kalina’s breath caught, her pulse too loud, too fast. “Is he here? Is he… is he alive?” The old woman didn’t answer. Didn’t move. Just stared at the rain, the pale, shivering mist pressing against the glass, the light a faint, silver glow. “Please.” Kalina’s voice was a thin, trembling thread. “Please… I need to know.” The old woman’s lips moved, a faint, slow quiver, her voice a faint, dying whisper. “You already know… You have always known…” “I don’t.” Kalina’s voice cracked, sharp, raw. “I don’t know anything.” “You do.” The old woman’s voice was a faint, calm hum. “But you are afraid to see.” “I’m not afraid.” Another lie. Another shadow pressed against her thoughts. “I’m not…” The old woman’s fingers traced the edge of her shawl, the pale, wet fabric twisted, a dark, twisting stain. “You are afraid… of shadows that don’t leave… of names that never end…” “Andrei…” Kalina whispered, her voice a faint, shivering breath. “He waits…” The old woman’s voice melted, a faint, dying thread. “In the place where shadows speak… in the place where names… are never forgotten…” And then the pale, grey light seemed to waver, the rain a faint, silver whisper that pressed
⬅️ Extrait prĂ©cĂ©dent | Extrait suivant ➡️
đź”– Labels : What Sleeps, What Sleeps – Extrait 27
