Chapitre 28: Chapter 4: Entering the Abyss
The Elysian Films studio looms in front of me like a relic from another era,
Its once-grand facade now choked by creeping vines and grime.
I approach with a mix of excitement and trepidation,
The faded sign above the entrance barely legible.
The studio's desolation is palpable, the quiet around it unnervingly thick.
The first thing I notice is the silence—an oppressive,
Suffocating quiet that contrasts sharply with the bustling café where I met Linda earlier.
The usual city sounds are muted here,
Replaced by the distant rustling of leaves and the occasional creak of the building settling into its abandonment.
I tread carefully across the cracked pavement,
Feeling the weight of the studio's history pressing down on me.
I pull out my camera,
The lens capturing the eerie beauty of the dilapidated structure.
The exterior walls are scarred with cracks,
The once-pristine white paint now peeling and fading to a ghostly gray.
Windows are boarded up,
The wood warped and splintered from years of neglect.
The entrance is obscured by a makeshift barrier of rotting plywood and rusted nails.
My breath quickens with each step,
The sense of something forgotten and forsaken growing stronger.
I snap a few photos of the exterior,
My camera's shutter a sharp contrast to the stillness.
The overgrown vegetation clings to the building like a shroud,
And I can't help but feel that the studio is trying to hide from the world,
As if it wants to remain unseen and untouched.
As I draw closer,
A shiver runs down my spine.
The air is cool and damp,
Carrying with it the scent of decay.
I reach the entrance,
Crouching down to inspect the makeshift barrier.
The boards are loose,
And I manage to pry one off just enough to slip inside.
The creak of the wood echoes loudly, amplifying the stillness.
The moment I step through the entrance,
The atmosphere shifts.
The inside of the studio is cloaked in shadows,
The faint light from the boarded-up windows creating a hazy,
Almost spectral glow.
The air is thick with dust, each step stirring up small clouds that catch the light and swirl like ghostly wisps.
The interior is a labyrinth of forgotten film equipment and abandoned sets.
Broken light fixtures hang from the ceiling like twisted metal vines,
And old projectors sit like sentinels in the dark.
The floor is littered with debris—torn scripts,
Discarded film reels,
And shattered glass.
The remnants of a once-thriving creative hub now lay in disarray.
I move deeper into the studio,
My footsteps echoing off the walls.
Every room is a snapshot of neglect: torn curtains billow like tattered ghosts,
And the walls are plastered with faded murals that once depicted vibrant scenes of cinematic grandeur.
The silence is almost a presence in itself,
Pressing in on me as I make my way through the various rooms.
In one room,
A large,
Cracked mirror still hangs on the wall,
Its surface streaked with grime.
I can barely make out my reflection,
The image fragmented and distorted.
A chill runs through me,
And I can't help but wonder about the stories this place holds.
Who stood here before, and what secrets does it keep?
I take out my notebook,
Jotting down observations and snapping photos as I go.
The studio's history is seeping into me,
And I can feel the weight of its past—the triumphs,
The failures,
The legends.
It's both exhilarating and unsettling, like standing on the edge of a precipice,
Peering into the unknown.
As I approach the main stage area,
The grandeur of what was once a vibrant creative space is now overshadowed by decay.
The grand curtain is moth-eaten and hanging in tatters,
And the once-spotless stage is now a patchwork of grime and debris.
I take a deep breath,
Feeling the eerie stillness envelop me.
This place,
With all its faded glory and whispered rumors,
Is now a part of my journey.
I can't help but be drawn to its mystery,
Its abandoned echoes calling out to me.
I'm on the brink of uncovering something profound,
But for now,
The studio remains a silent witness to its own story,
A story I'm determined to unravel.
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
Vivid_Horizons
Vivid_Horizons "Dive into *The Cursed Studio* through my eyes—where a cursed film set blurs reality with myth. Feel the tension, confront hidden secrets, and navigate the chaos. Like, share, save, vote, comment, and gift to keep this suspense alive. Your support makes it unforgettable!"
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone