Control
Hold the screen
c
The timeless chase unfolds as shadows slip into the unseen, breaths held and pulses racing. One stands isolated, eyes shut tight, counting down seconds that stretch like hours—anticipation sharpens the air. The world becomes a labyrinth of whispered giggles and creaking floorboards, every rustle a clue, every silence a riddle. Seekers morph into ghosts, melting behind curtains, under beds, within closets, their laughter muffled by palms. Time bends; the hunter’s gaze sweeps rooms once familiar, now foreign, each corner a potential ambush of triumph. Victory hinges on split-second choices—to bolt for home base or linger, heartbeat thundering, in the sweet agony of near-discovery. A game where rules are written in glances and adrenaline, where childhood’s simplest stakes feel like life itself.
