The goddess of mimes

Fabulous work if slightly creepy

And so, the children played on, trapped in their own mute nightmare, forever mimicking the goddess's unseen hands.

One by one, the children’s faces twisted with fear, their eyes wide as they tried to break free. But they couldn’t. The Déesse des Mimes was watching, and with each silent motion they made, she grew stronger. Her form, always hidden, danced among them, her fingers miming their every move. They could not scream, they could not run, for in the park, sound was her prison, and silence, her reign.

The children giggled, unaware of her presence, their laughter echoing in the empty space. But as they played, their movements began to shift. They no longer spoke or made a sound. Every time one of them tried to call out, no words escaped—only an eerie silence that pressed against their ears. Their bodies moved, but they couldn’t stop, mimicking the gestures of someone unseen. They were trapped in an endless, invisible dance.

In the quiet of a forgotten park, where the swings creaked with no wind, and the slides gleamed under a blood-red sky, the children played. They didn’t know it, but they were being watched by the Déesse des Mimes—an ancient spirit whose power thrived in silence. She moved like a shadow, her face hidden beneath a veil of stillness.