The Cursed Tide

They found the ship drifting at dawn. Black sails. No crew. No sound.

The deck was soaked in salt and blood. Names carved into the wood— Names of every sailor

who touched it. When the sun set, the whispering began. Voices below deck. Chains dragging.

Something wet crawling up the stairs. By morning, only one lifeboat remained.

Empty. Still rocking. They say the ship still sails the coast—

Looking for its next crew. Subscribe… before you hear the whisper of the cursed tide...