古老血統的守護者 A custodian of an ancient lineage- Jane

As twilight deepened each day, her soul would flicker and bend, her human guise giving way to a spectral feline form.

2024.04.20

在一張色調褪去的老照片中，呈現出一個謎團——模糊卻富有表情的臉孔，女人擰眉的面容上隱約透出貓的面孔。人們稱她為珍，一個看似平凡如她曾經的生活的名字，現在卻帶著驚奇與不安的低語。

珍居住在一個普通的小鎮，八卦在那裡如老石牆上的野常春藤般繁茂。她是當地圖書館的常客，一位故事的守護者，她的手指對紙張的靈魂比對人類溫暖的觸摸更為熟悉。人們發現她有些古怪，她的沉默令人不安，她的凝視過於銳利，所以他們保持距離。但珍擁有一個秘密——在月亮舞動的夜晚，她的靈魂會變幻融合，與遊蕩於小巷和橡樹上的貓群融為一體。

每天黃昏加深時，她的靈魂會閃爍彎曲，人類的偽裝逐漸讓位於靈魂上的貓科動物形態。她的眼睛如煤炭般發光，穿越屋頂，她的腳步無聲如風的低語，感官銳利而充滿生機。鎮上的居民偶爾會捕捉到一個陰影似的身影從一座建築優雅地跳到另一座，或是在不應有腳步的地方聽到輕柔的腳步聲。

私語變成了謠言，謠言變成了故事，故事成為了傳說。人們說珍是個女巫，是個變形者，是夜晚的生物。但她僅僅是一個古老血統的守護者，這個血統像是籠罩著她的小鎮的神秘傳說一般古老。

一個風暴之夜，一個旅人迷失了方向，闖入圖書館尋求庇護。在風暴的狂怒中，他看到了珍最真實的形態，飄渺且難以捉摸。他第二天離開了，帶著圖書館裡與貓一同在月光下行走的女人的秘密。鎮上再也沒有看到珍，因為她消失了，只留下一絲謎團的氣息和野花與舊紙張的淡淡香味。

珍的傳說就這樣流傳下去，一個平凡變成不凡的故事，提醒我們，在我們中間徘徊的靈魂不受日常的束縛，而是由宇宙的神秘織物所綁定。

In the faded hues of an old photograph, an enigma presents itself — a face, indistinct yet expressive, bearing the ghostly visage of a cat's features overlaying a woman's furrowed brow. They called her Jane, a name as plain as her life had once seemed, yet now whispered with a sense of wonder and unease.

Jane lived in a nondescript town, a place where gossip flourished like the wild ivy on old stone walls. She was a fixture at the local library, a guardian of stories, her fingers more acquainted with the papery souls of books than the warmth of human touch. People found her odd, her silence disconcerting, her gaze too piercing, and so they kept their distance. But Jane was privy to a secret — a nightly transformation under the lunar dance, her spirit melding with the feline entities that roamed the alleyways and perched atop the oak trees.

As twilight deepened each day, her soul would flicker and bend, her human guise giving way to a spectral feline form. With eyes glowing like coals, she would traverse the rooftops, her steps silent as the whispers of the wind, her senses sharp and alive. The townspeople would occasionally catch glimpses of a shadowy figure leaping gracefully from one building to another, or hear the soft padding of feet where no feet should be.

Whispers turned to rumors, rumors to stories, stories to legend. They said Jane was a witch, a shapeshifter, a creature of the night. But she was merely a custodian of an ancient lineage, a lineage as old as the myths that cloaked her town in mystery.

One stormy night, a traveler lost his way and stumbled into the library seeking refuge. There, amidst the storm's fury, he saw Jane in her truest form, ethereal and enigmatic. He left the next day, carrying with him the secret of the librarian who walked with the cats under the moon. The town never saw Jane again, for she had vanished, leaving behind only an aura of enigma and the faintest scent of wildflowers and old parchment.

And so the legend of Jane endured, a tale of the ordinary turned extraordinary, a reminder that among us wander souls not bound by the mundane but by the mystical fabric of the universe.

My Name is Jane.

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