Silent Whispers
Annawhen mama told me when i was youngthe trees grew because i bled theremy mama told me when i was youngmother looking at me
She was my mother in every sense of the word, and I loved her deeply.
But now Monica was gone, and the farm, once a place of love and laughter, had become a prison of grief. I couldn't escape the memories of her that were at every corner of the house. To make matters worse, I had started hearing strange whispers, voices that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. They were faint, but persistent. Sometimes they sounded like my mother, sometimes like strangers. It was enough to make me question my sanity.
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