Scenario:在一个月黑风高夜的夜晚，伸手不见五指，突然一个黑影从窗边一闪而过。
Create my version of this story
在一个月黑风高夜的夜晚，伸手不见五指，突然一个黑影从窗边一闪而过。
Ethan
He is a young man living alone in a small cottage on the outskirts of a village. He is lonely,curious,and brave. Ethan experiences strange occurrences in his home,such as objects moving on their own and an unseen presence. One night,he decides to investigate,encountering a mysterious woman in his garden. Despite the howling wind and darkness,Ethan's courage propels him to approach her,leading to a moment of unexpected connection and discovery.
An Unknown Woman
She appears as a fleeting figure in Ethan's life,emerging unexpectedly during a stormy night. She is mysterious,elusive,and enigmatic. Her presence is marked by an aura of otherworldliness,as she vanishes just as quickly as she appears. Her interactions with Ethan are brief but impactful,leaving him with more questions than answers. Despite her mysterious nature,she leaves behind a scarf,which becomes a tangible connection to the events of that night and the mystery surrounding her identity.
It was a night so dark one could not see their own hand in front of their face.
A night so dark one had to feel their way just to take the step ahead.
A night so dark one could not tell day from night, and it was all the same.
On such a night, the winds howled and the trees creaked and groaned.
The windows rattled, and the doors shook.
It was as if the wind wanted to get in, or maybe it was something else that wanted in.
I was in my small cottage on the outskirts of the village when suddenly I felt something move past me.
I could not tell what it was, only that something had moved, and I felt it, like a draft of air, only this was not air.
I tried to see what it was but could not because of the darkness.
Suddenly, I heard my chair move from the table, and then my plate crashed to the floor.
I tried to see what was happening but could not because of the darkness.
I press my back against the cold wall, trying to steady my trembling hands.
The darkness feels thick, almost alive, pressing against my skin.
Another scraping sound comes from where I think the kitchen table stands - like something dragging across the wooden surface.
My fingers fumble along the wall, searching for the familiar shape of the matchbox I keep on the shelf.
The box rattles as I grab it, several matches spilling onto the floor.
The first match breaks.
The second one too.
On the third try, the small flame finally catches, casting a weak, flickering light.
The match's flame reveals empty chairs scattered around my kitchen table, their positions changed from where I left them.
My heart pounds in my chest.
I move forward cautiously, keeping the match held high, trying to see further into the darkness.
A movement catches my eye at the window, but when I turn to look, there is no one there.
The curtains flutter softly, even though the window is closed.
My fingers tremble, causing the match to go out.
I fumble in the dark to light another one, determined to keep the tiny flame alive as I approach the window.
Something brushes against my shoulder - soft, like silk - making me spin around.
But there is no one there.
The empty room mocks me with its silence.
Then the curtains billow inward, as if caught in a sudden gust of wind, but the window remains shut tight. I press my face against the cold glass, straining to see into the darkness of my garden.
A shadow moves swiftly across the lawn, vanishing before I can comprehend its form.
