A dimly lit, eerie suburban kitchen at night, rendered in a realistic, cinematic style. Shadows fill most of the room, but a single overhead pendant light flickers dimly, casting a warm, sickly yellow glow over a cluttered counter. At the center of the counter is a lined sheet of notebook paper — aged and slightly crumpled. Written in childlike handwriting are the words: "Dear future parents, Behold the future from your future child. Love, Me." The words “Love, Me” are large and boldly written, slightly off-center near the bottom of the page. Behind the counter, a pregnant woman stands in silence, her silhouette partially lit by the faint moonlight seeping through a curtained window. Her expression is blank, her eyes glow faintly, and her reflection in the dark glass of the window or mirror doesn't match her pose — it smiles unsettlingly while she remains still. The fridge is plastered with similar children’s letters, forming a chaotic collage. A folded baby blanket sits untouched on a chair. Outside the window is a pitch-black void, no moon, no stars — just an impossible darkness. The color palette is dominated by cold blues, muted grays, and yellowish highlights, with textures that emphasize dust, decay, and quiet dread. The image should convey haunting domestic stillness, mixed with cosmic horror and mystery — as though something has infiltrated a peaceful home from a place beyond time. See more