The Weaver of Lost Souls

In a remote West African village, there lived a woman named Ama who could weave cloth so beautiful,

it was said the patterns moved like living things. Every full moon, she would sit alone

by the river, her loom clicking through the night, creating fabrics that fetched prices

no other weaver could command. The village elders whispered warnings, but greed kept tongues

silent. One night, a traveling merchant named Kofi decided to discover her

secret. He crept through the darkness, following the rhythmic sound of her loom.

What he saw turned his blood to ice. Ama sat there, yes, but her fingers

were not moving. Instead, dozens of pale hands emerged from the water behind her,