A mannequin stands silently on a deserted catwalk, draped in a vibrant red evening gown with intricate beading and delicate lace, under the silvery glow of a full moon hanging low in the darkening sky on a predominantly cloudy night, with tree branches like skeletal fingers stretching towards the figure, and the only sound the soft hum of streetlights and the distant rumble of an occasional passing car, and the intricate folds and creases of the fabric are illuminated with an eerie, ethereal light, as if the very fabric of reality has been pulled taut to reveal the mannequin's tranquil, masquerade-like beauty.