BEDROOM

Retreat to chambers where the moon’s pale light seeps through cracked stained glass, bathing the room in a ghostly glow. Four-poster beds, draped in heavy brocade, stand like ancient altars, their mattresses sinking under the weight of dreams too dark to speak. A vanity mirror reflects not your visage but the shadowed outline of a figure long departed, its whispers echoing from the armoire where moth-eaten gowns hang, their silk threads unraveling like the secrets of those who once slept here.