A Watery Grave

The wind brushed my cheek and howled its deadly sins into my ear. I couldn’t help but sing the song that the trees whispered to me under my breath.

“An empty river, a broken gaze…” What was the next line?

“A terrible song, a watery grave,” came a slow voice behind me.

Two days later, nothing had changed. She was being much quieter than before. I wondered if she was okay. Her eyes always seemed so alert, almost too alert, but now, they’re just empty. Glazed over, like a dead body…

It has been another two days. She’s gone. I was walking to the other side of school to meet her but she wasn’t there so I asked one of our friends if they had seen her and they didn’t even know her. I asked reception if they knew if she had gone home ill, but apparently she wasn’t on the school records. Another one of my empty fake friends taken by the necromancer.

 

Written by Elsa Garcia Tobin

Photo by Alex on unsplash.com

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