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A Whisper in the Night: I

Prologue

Rose turned ten years old today and was lying on the ground with her hypnotic hazel eyes gazing towards the clouds. Her mother, embracing her tightly, lay over her in tears sobbing uncontrollably.


To die on your birthday is an evil mockery of fate, but to watch your child die is an evil mockery of life.

If you are an artist and any of these poems/stories resonate with you and you want to create art to be displayed on this site, please contact me.

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