What Sleeps – Extrait 30
brush a faint, trembling curve that twisted, melted into the dark. His coat was stained with faint smudges of blue, his hair damp, his sleeves frayed, the faint, sharp scent of paint pressing against the warm, quiet air. But he knew. He always knew. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” His voice was calm, soft, a faint, gentle hum that slipped between the quiet. “I think I have.” Kalina’s voice was thin, tangled, a faint, shivering breath. “Another one?” His fingers moved, the brush twisting, the blue spreading, thick, dark, a shadow pressed against the pale cloth. “Maybe the same one.” Her pulse was too loud, too fast, a slow, heavy drumbeat that filled her ears. “Or maybe it’s not a ghost at all.” “Those are the worst kind.” His voice was a quiet hum, his eyes never leaving the canvas. “The ones that aren’t dead yet.” Her breath caught, the ache twisting, sharp, pressing against her chest. “I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know who he is. I don’t know… I don’t know who I am.” “Always a good place to start.” His brush moved, the blue a thick, dark curve, a shadow twisting, pressing, melting against the pale cloth. “But not the place to stay.” “I saw him. I saw him again.” Her voice was thin, too fast, a faint, sharp thread. “He knows me. He knows everything. And he told me…” “He told you what?” Alexei’s voice was calm, steady, but his hand slowed, the brush a faint, trembling curve. “He told me I’m chasing a shadow. That I already know the truth.” Her fingers tightened against her sleeves, her breath sharp, thin, tearing at her chest. “But I don’t. I don’t know anything.” “Don’t you?” His voice was calm, a faint, quiet hum. “Or are you afraid to see it?” “I’m not afraid.” Another lie. Another shadow pressed against her thoughts. “I just… I don’t know who he is. I don’t know who I’m looking for. I don’t know…” “But you know his name.” Alexei stepped back, his fingers tracing the edge of the canvas, the blue a thick, twisted shadow that seemed to bleed, melt against the pale cloth. “And that’s always something.” “It’s not enough.” Her voice was sharp now, too sharp, cracking. “I found a door. A door that shouldn’t be there. But it wouldn’t open. And he was there. He told me I would never open it. That I was watching myself. That I was… chasing something I didn’t want to see.” “Doors that don’t open are usually the most dangerous.” His voice was a faint, quiet breath, his eyes still fixed on the canvas. “Because they make you want to open them even more.” “I don’t want to want this.” Her breath was sharp, her chest tight, the ache twisting, pressing. “But I can’t stop. I can’t…” “I know.” His voice was a faint, gentle hum. “But maybe that’s not the problem.” “Then what is?” “That you’re trying to see without understanding.” He stepped back, his fingers brushing against his chin, a faint, pale smear of blue against his cheek. “What did you see? What was on the door?” “Symbols.” Her voice was sharp, thin, a faint, trembling thread. “A crescent. A spiral. A key. And his name.” “Andrei.” “Yes.” Her breath caught, the ache twisting, sharp, a knife pressing beneath her ribs. “His name. But why? Why would it be there? Why is his name always there?” “Because it’s always been there.” Alexei turned, his eyes catching hers, dark, sharp, a faint, silver gleam. “Because it’s not just his name.” “It’s a name.” Her voice was too fast, too thin. “It’s his name. It’s…” “It’s more than that.” His fingers brushed against the edge of the canvas, the blue twisting, a dark, thick shadow that seemed to bleed, melt, reach. “It’s a mark. A signature. A shadow that never left.” “A shadow that never left.” Her voice was a faint, shivering breath. “What does that mean?” “It means you’re chasing a ghost.” His voice was calm, steady. “But not a ghost of someone who died. A ghost of someone who never
⬅️ Extrait prĂ©cĂ©dent | Extrait suivant ➡️
đź”– Labels : What Sleeps, What Sleeps – Extrait 30
