a death long since forgotten

The nursery stands in stark contrast to the rest of the farmhouse.
This room has been abandoned for a very long time, emanating feelings of absence and sorrow, as though a mother's tears are soaked into the very walls themselves.
The air is thick, carrying the memory of what once was but is now forever lost.
It is often completely silent, save for the faint sound of an old clock mounted on the wall, ticking away the hours.
The only movement in the otherwise still room comes from the flimsy, worn curtains that flutter in the draft from the broken window pane.
The wooden crib is still there, untouched by time, holding a silent promise that a new life once began here. But the crib is empty now, as it has been for decades, encircled with salt and crucifixes; as if the mere presence of a child sleeping inside is enough to attract the uninvited entities that lurk in the gloom beyond the nursery’s confines- seemingly drawn to the scent of a life long gone.