ㅤㅤ
       ⏳    Long ago, when people still believed
          that forests could remember their footsteps,
   there was a story no one dared to tell after dark.

    Two children lost their way beneath the
trees and followed a trail of breadcrumbs deep
into the forest. There, under the pale moon, stood
a gingerbread house, its sweet walls shining like a
beautiful lie.

     They came closer, hungry and tired. But the
  forest had gone quiet. The birds were gone, the
  path had disappeared, and something seemed
    to be watching them from between the trees.

                🪾        |            🕯             |      🏠

 
        ..then the door slowly opened. 𓆪

         A fire burned inside,
      yet gave no warmth. And
    from the darkness came a
  voice that knew their names.  ۫ ཀ

                      that night, they learned an old lesson:

       “not every sweet thing is safe, and
             not every house is a home.” 📜🗝 ྅
ㅤㅤ