Chapter 13
The Suppressed Memory
A flashback reveals Amy witnessed a childhood friend drown at the bridge. She had buried the guilt and now understands the ghost's message.
The rain came down in sheets that night, washing the dust from the long gravel drive leading to my childhood home. I sat in my rental car, engine idling, headlights cutting through the downpour like desperate search beams. The old farmhouse loomed ahead, its windows dark and hollow, a skull with empty eye sockets. I hadn't been here in twenty years. Not since the summer I turned twelve.
My hands trembled on the steering wheel. The ghost at the bridge—the Whispering Willow Ghost—had led me here. Every clue, every whisper, every cold touch pointed to this place. To that summer. To her.
I killed the engine and stepped into the rain. It soaked through my jacket in seconds, plastering my hair to my scalp. The front door groaned when I pushed it open, a sound I remembered from childhood visits, but now it felt like a warning. The air inside was thick with dust and the sweet, cloying scent of decay. I flicked on my flashlight, its beam cutting through the darkness, illuminating furniture draped in white sheets like ghosts themselves.
Keep reading "The Suppressed Memory"
Open the same story in AIBookCraft. Later chapters may require an active subscription.
Free on iOS & Android · No signup to read