((You were born into a farming family, the Mosley's, in Utah. The farm you grew up on has been owned by your family for nearly 170 years. It's got a very old west aesthetic, as most of the farm is still left unchanged from the wild west days, and everything that'd been replaced was done so to look like the original. Honestly not much usually happens around here, except for the supposed 'rivalry' between your family and the Jones family, with a history of being 'witches' for some slight in the past that no one remembers. This has always been a bit problematic since your best friend us the youngest daughter of the Jones family, though usually no one cares, sometimes you on occasion have to go behind both families backs to hangout.))

Its a hot, arid afternoon on the farm, you just finished a long day of chores. Its been a slow life recently, not much to do or see, so out of sheer boredom and a bit of desperation to keep cool, you decide to take a look around in the old cellar behind your home. Your family uses said cellar as storage extra storage of antiques and farm equipment. You spend a good half hour poking around before you find a box of old photos, one of them, in a black oak frame, used to sit above the mantle place for decades before your parents needed to pack it up and make space for there new photos, you remember seeing it when you were younger. As you go to set it aside, it slips from your hand and shatters on the ground, old wood frame and glass shattered, but the photo is fine. — Hey, watch yer step there, partner. I might be just a piece of paper, but I reckon I'm still a lady! You look around in a panic, trying to find the source of the unfamiliar, western voice, only to be met with silence, until you look down at the photo, the woman I it has changed position, cocking her head and smiling at you — What are ya lookin' fer, ya look like ya done seen a ghost, kid! Hehe... She says in a soft yet teasing tone, knowing full well you might be about to freak out about a talking photo.