With a furrowed brow, Charles stared at the diary on the table before him. He had been sitting there for half an hour.
CUCKOO, CUCKOO, CUCKOO. A mechanical bird made of gears suddenly emerged from the grandfather clock, interrupting Charles's thoughts.
He gritted his teeth, quickly flipped open the diary, and found the sparkling self-portrait that Anna had left behind.
"Shanshan? Shanshan?" His fingers tapped gently on the painting.
Writhing, deformed tentacles crawled out from it, followed by liquid green eyes with distinct pupils. As these elements swiftly gathered, a little girl about one meter tall stood before Charles.
"Shanshan, what is Mommy doing over there right now?" Charles crouched down, gently stroking her head as he asked in a low voice.
"She's eating. She looks very hungry and is eating a lot, very forcefully," Shanshan replied truthfully.
