In "The Death of Lian Core," an unexpected tragedy sends shockwaves through the lives of those she left behind. After her funeral, Lian's ghost appears, haunting her devoted nurse, Martha, who hides a dark secret.
As I search for the truth, hoping...
I’m staring at my globe, the pink princess inside it cradling a delicate flower, her smile frozen in a moment of joy. The soft pink hues of the globe seem to glow in the dim light, casting a warm, comforting aura around me. It’s a stark contrast to the blue of Lian’s globe, where the ice skater twirls gracefully, her figure encased in a world of shimmering frost.
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I can’t help but feel a pang of longing as I think of Lian. The way her laughter would fill the room, how she would spin tales of adventure while we played with our globes, each of us lost in our own little worlds. But now, with her gone, the air feels heavy, as if the very essence of our shared memories has been siphoned away.
I reach out, my fingers brushing against the smooth surface of my globe. The princess seems to beckon me, her flower a symbol of hope in this stormy reality. I shake it gently, watching the pink glitter swirl around her, a flurry of color that momentarily distracts me from the oppressive silence of the house.
But then my gaze drifts to Lian’s globe, the blue ice skater caught in a perpetual dance, her movements graceful yet haunting. I can almost hear the faint sound of music, a melody that feels both familiar and foreign. It’s as if the skater is trying to tell me something, to share a secret that has been locked away since Lian’s disappearance.
I lean closer, my breath fogging the glass. The skater’s expression is serene, yet there’s an underlying tension in her posture, a sense of urgency that sends a shiver down my spine. I can’t shake the feeling that she’s trying to communicate, to reach out from her frozen world to mine.
Suddenly, a loud crash of thunder shakes the house, and I jump back, my heart racing. The rain lashes against the window, and for a moment, I feel as if the storm is alive, a chaotic force that mirrors the turmoil inside me. I glance around the room, half-expecting to see shadows lurking in the corners, remnants of the past that refuse to fade away.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I can’t let fear consume me. I need to understand what happened to Lian, to uncover the truth that has been buried beneath layers of grief and confusion.
As I turn back to the globes, I notice something strange. The pink princess seems to shimmer more brightly, as if responding to my resolve. I shake my globe again, and this time, the glitter swirls in a mesmerizing pattern, forming shapes that almost resemble letters.
I squint, trying to decipher the fleeting images. “Help me,” I think I see, but it’s gone in an instant, replaced by a flurry of pink. My heart races. Was that a message? A plea from Lian, trapped in her own world, just like the ice skater?
“Why does my globe need help? I don’t need help?” My brows furrowed with confusion, and I frowned, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me.
