Late one evening, Amara was crying under covers as was her daily ritual, when she heard the sound of whistling wind coming from outside her bedroom door. But the house was locked - all the doors all the windows, they were all locked. Wiping her eyes on the bed sheets she stumbled over to the door half blinded by her own tears.
"Hello? Mary, Peter, is that you?" No one replied. Counting to three she flung the door open to reveal... nothing. There was no one there, not even the faintest trace that someone had walked past her room.
Slowly Amara climbed back into bed, clearing her mind of the strange noise. It was nothing. But why could she not get the sound out of her head? And why on Earth had it sounded like someone had been screaming?
YOU ARE READING
Happy
Short StoryA girl who strives for perfection in everything she does suddenly encounters a large block in her journey to happiness. Will she be able to come back from this tragedy, or will the grief consume her?
