A child's memory, a shadowed path, a glimpse of something that should not be.
In A Vignette, M. R. James offers a final brushstroke of quiet terror—intimate, elusive, and disquietingly real. This short, unsettling piece lingers like a half-remembered dream, evoking the moment when the everyday slips into the uncanny.
With masterful restraint and emotional undercurrent, James reminds us that the most chilling hauntings are those born in the mind—and never truly forgotten.
