It lurks on the edge of most maps/any map/every map, a festering sore/wound/gash on reality. They say laughter died in Grimsville long ago/recently/sometime. A creeping chill/sorrow/despair hangs over the place, making even the sun look sick/appear dull/seem to weep. The buildings are twisted/broken/bent, their windows like vacant eyes/staring into

Many claim to hear these whispers, faint traces of departed souls. Some attribute them to an open mind, while others firmly believe that they are genuine messages from the afterlife. These whispers {can be heard inthe rustling leaves, or felt here as a sudden wave of coldness. Often, these ethereal murmurs offer glimpses of the unseen world. Are th