I heard her again last night, whispering in the shadows. Still couldn’t quite make out what she was saying, though I can guess. I’ve tried asking her what she wants but she ignores my questions. Despite all my efforts I can’t stop the incessant whispers. She’s called me by name, more than once. A familiarity in her voice. The form she takes is translucent, constantly moving and shimmering. There’s no face to talk of but I know who she is, of course I do. I just wish now I’d cut her tongue out before I buried her in the basement.
My Drabble Project – Day 26 Story 81