She traced her fingertips over the warped features, and suddenly, the room around her flickered. The walls stretched into a tunnel of shifting light and shadow.
2025.02.17
珍總是能在別人看不到的地方發現面孔。她生活在被遺忘的照片之中，記錄著那些早已逝去的生命。但某天，當她整理一疊被水損壞的舊照片時，她發現了一張與眾不同的肖像。影像中的人像模糊不清，嘴角彷彿帶著一抹詭異的微笑，眼神隱藏在陰影之下，卻又帶著某種洞察力。照片上的墨跡似乎在顫動，像是一場海市蜃樓，彷彿這張照片擁有自己的生命。
珍把照片湊近，一股奇異的暖意滲透過紙張。然後，低語聲響起——
「珍。」
那聲音破碎而幽遠，彷彿橫越時空傳來。它不是在求救，而是在記得她。可是，怎麼可能？她從未見過這張臉。
她用指尖輕輕撫過這些扭曲的五官，突然，四周的空間開始閃爍，牆壁伸展成一條光與影交錯的隧道。在朦朧的霧氣中，一張張剪影浮現——她熟悉的臉孔，那些曾被她記錄下來的人。他們的笑容閃爍不定，表情逐漸融化，變成照片中相同的詭異笑容。
聲音再次響起——
「妳守護著我們。但誰來守護妳？」
珍驚恐地想要抽回手，卻發現指尖已經陷入照片，像是觸碰到一片流動的水面。影像中的扭曲向外擴散，拉扯著她的倒影。她的臉，本來清晰的輪廓，如今開始融入相同的幽暗模糊之中……
她一直以來都在保存過去。現在，過去正在保存她。
某個角落，一張新的照片悄然出現——邊緣仍殘留著濕潤的痕跡，輪廓模糊不清。而照片的下方，靜靜寫著一個名字——
「珍。」
Jane had always seen faces where others saw nothing. She lived among forgotten photographs, cataloging whispers of lives long past. But one day, while sorting through a stack of water-damaged prints, she found it—a portrait unlike any other. The figure in the image was blurred, its mouth twisted into an eerie half-smile, its eyes shadowed yet watchful. The ink seemed to pulse, shifting like a mirage as if the photograph itself was alive.
Jane held the image closer. A strange warmth seeped through the paper. Then, the whispering began.
Jane.
The voice crackled, low and fragmented, as though reaching across time. It wasn’t calling for help. It was remembering her. But how? She had never seen this face before.
She traced her fingertips over the warped features, and suddenly, the room around her flickered. The walls stretched into a tunnel of shifting light and shadow. Through the haze, silhouettes emerged—faces she had known, people she had documented. Their smiles flickered, their expressions melting into the same distorted grin as the one in the portrait.
The voice spoke again.
You keep us. But who keeps you?
Jane tried to pull away, but her fingers sank into the photograph, as if the image were made of liquid. The distortion rippled outward, pulling at her reflection. Her own face, once so clear, was dissolving into the same ghostly blur.
She had always preserved the past. Now, the past was preserving her.
Somewhere in the archives, a new photograph appeared—its edges damp, its features unclear. And at the bottom, a single name was written:
Jane.
