Come the Whispers

She tucks in the sleeping child. “G’night Sweetie, Grandma loves you.”

“You’re not her grandma,” come the whispers under the bed.

The old woman looks down. “Shut up.”

“You’re going to kill her,” they whisper again. “Like us.”

“Shut up,” she stomps. “Shut up!

Copyright © by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.

Discover more of my Aethereal Musings.

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