Whispers in the Dark

The girl in the attic heard footsteps too thin. She followed the tapping then vanished

within. No record, no shadow. Just dust in her bed.

And the sound of her name. No one's spoken since then. The boy in

the cornfield saw eyes in the rain. He laughed at the stories,

then screamed just the same. They found only teeth marks and boots by the

track. And a whisper that said, "He won't be coming back."

She keeps their stories in velvet and ash. In boxes that bleed when you

open the latch. They knocked on a truth that should never be known.