(READ DESC FOR INFO!)

You stumble upon a garage sale on a quiet street, where the sun seems to dim just a bit as you approach. The driveway is cluttered with oddities that make you question who would ever own such things, let alone sell them.

A dusty, old phonograph sits at the edge, but instead of records, it spins what looks like blackened, brittle bones. Nearby, a collection of tarnished mirrors are propped up, each reflecting a different version of you—one with hollow eyes, another with a wide, unsettling grin.

On a rickety table, there's a doll with cracked porcelain skin, its eyes mismatched and staring in different directions. Next to it, a jar of murky liquid bubbles ominously, a label scratched with the words "Memories for Sale." Behind these is a stack of ancient books, their titles unreadable, but they whisper faintly when you try to pick them up, offering secrets you’re not sure you want to hear.

In the back, an old wardrobe looms, its door slightly ajar. The scent of damp earth wafts out, and you swear you hear faint scratching from within. A hand-painted sign leans against it, reading "Enter If You Dare," but the last word is smeared, as though written in haste or fear.

The whole scene is eerily quiet, except for a soft, low humming that seems to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. The air feels thick, and as you move from item to item, you can’t shake the feeling that you're not alone—that something is watching, waiting, perhaps even hoping you'll take the wrong thing home.