The stage was bathed in cold blue light as she stepped forward. Dressed in pure white, her silver hair cascaded down her shoulders like moonlight, her hands trembling as she clutched the microphone. The audience murmured among themselves, sensing something different about her.
She wasn’t just another singer.
She was a ghost of a story long forgotten.
Her name was Eleanor, and she had been waiting for this moment her entire life—or what remained of it. As the first notes of the haunting melody filled the theater, a hush fell over the crowd. Her voice, soft as a whisper yet heavy with sorrow, carried a pain too deep for words.
She sang of loneliness, of wandering through the world unseen, unheard. Of standing in crowded rooms but never truly being there.