逝去回聲的守護者 The Keeper of Fading Echoes
A face, half-forgotten, half-revealed, seemed to stare at her through the veil of time. And at the very bottom of the faded canvas, her name was etched in delicate strokes: Jane.
2025.02.14
珍一直知道，記憶是脆弱的，它們像指縫間的沙粒一般，在時間的流轉中悄然溜走。但她從未想過，自己竟會被困在記憶之間，停留在一個身份模糊、過往低語的地方，那裡的一切都交錯著綠與金的色彩。
她發現那幅回聲肖像的那天，便不再屬於某個確切的時刻。那幅畫隱藏在一間廢棄老屋剝落的牆紙之下——一張既未完全顯現、也未完全消失的圖像，在存在與遺忘之間擺盪。一張若隱若現的臉龐，彷彿透過時光的薄霧凝視著她。而在褪色的畫布底部，一行細緻的筆跡寫著她的名字：珍。
她顫抖地伸出手指，輕輕觸摸那些字跡，墨跡像溶解般滲入她的肌膚，彷彿遙遠的低語開始在腦海中縈繞。當她凝視著那幅畫像時，周圍的世界開始暗淡。陰影拉長，顏色化開，忽然間，她已不再站在那棄置的房屋裡。
她來到了一個久遠的時代，空氣中瀰漫著被雨水浸透的泥土氣息，一名男子佇立在一棵扭曲的老樹下，他的面容在迷霧中忽隱忽現。他轉過身來，眼中流露出一種似曾相識的神情。妳找到我了，他輕聲說道。
珍這才明白，她不只是個旁觀者。她是載體，是橋樑，是那些拒絕被遺忘的回聲的守護者。
於是，她向前走去，步入被遺忘的記憶之霧，在那裡，名字會消散，臉龐會模糊，但過去，從未真正消失。
Jane had always known that memories were fragile things, slipping through time like sand through open fingers. But she had never expected to find herself trapped between them, caught in a space where identities blurred and past lives whispered through layers of green and gold.
The day she discovered the Echo Portrait was the day she ceased to belong to a single moment. It had been hidden beneath the peeling wallpaper of an abandoned house at the edge of the forest—an image neither fully formed nor entirely lost, shifting between presence and absence. A face, half-forgotten, half-revealed, seemed to stare at her through the veil of time. And at the very bottom of the faded canvas, her name was etched in delicate strokes: Jane.
She traced the letters with trembling fingers, the ink dissolving into her skin, a sensation like distant voices threading through her mind. As she gazed into the portrait, the world around her dimmed. Shadows lengthened, colors melted, and suddenly, she was no longer standing in the abandoned house.
Instead, she found herself in a time long past, where the air smelled of rain-soaked earth, and a man stood beneath a twisted tree, his face lost to shifting mist. He turned toward her, his eyes filled with something like recognition. You found me, he murmured.
Jane understood then—she was not merely an observer. She was the vessel, the bridge, the keeper of echoes that refused to be erased.
And so, she walked forward, into the haze of forgotten memories, where names dissolved, and faces blurred, but the past was never truly gone.
