Whenever there were grey curls in the skies, the lake would awaken. Sinister waves would ripple on its surface, and rekindle a whispered voice that spoke of a past happening. The voice would travel through trees and into nearby cottages, where it was eager to be heard. But, no one would listen. No one wanted to believe that it was the voice of the girl, who had drowned in the lake half a century ago.
Nice little piece of gothic fiction, darling!
Thank you, lovely! I’ve been inspired by the supernatural lately…I think it’s October, the dark evenings, and Halloween 🙂
Thank you 🙂
Voices whispering – sad for the innocent, scary for the guilty – most, simply don’t want to know.