Grandmother's Diary

I found my grandmother's old diary. I wish I never opened it. Her early entries

were normal. Then, March 1987. Whispers from the walls began.

They knew her maiden name, a miscarriage, her secret dreams. Everything.

She started conversing with them. They promised beauty, for a small hole.

Her last entry: 'They were right. It is beautiful. And they're so hungry.'

In her old house, I found a hole. When I listened,

it whispered my name. Excited.