Der unheimliche Verehrer

He strides through shadow as though it were silk, a paradox draped in black and gold. His coat, vast as a curtain of midnight, unfurls behind him with the authority of a phantom emperor. In one gloved hand, he carries the impossible: red roses that bloom defiantly against death’s grin. The skull beneath the dark glasses is not grotesque but strangely elegant, a relic ennobled by irony and poise. This is not fear; it is theatre:death turned dandy, mortality rewritten in brocade and pride. Every fold of his garment seems to whisper of forgotten waltzes, of candlelit rooms where the living once danced too long. The gold stripes shimmer like the faint memory of life’s laughter, and the flowers are his offering to beauty itself. I love this image for its audacious grace :it makes the macabre tender, the eerie sublime. Have a very nice sunday, Ehackmann !

Thank you for joining my challenge!🤗 💖 All of the entries were 💞INCREDIBLE!!💞 💜 A new game starts soon! I hope you'll enter, and don't forget to come back and vote!