Chapter 4: The House That Remembers
The police dismissed the shoe as “probably from a stray kid.” But Mrs. Loraine, the old neighbor, didn’t.
“You’re in the Rivers’ house, aren’t you?” she said, voice trembling. “They lost their son. Drowned in the river behind your property. She never left after that. Not really.”
That night, thunder shook the walls. I woke to the sound of running water — steady, rhythmic — but every tap was dry.
Anna murmured beside me, “It’s just the storm.”
But I knew storms didn’t whisper my name.
Cliffhanger: The next morning, muddy water pooled beneath the bed — and floating in it was the same photograph… now torn clean down the middle.
