WHISPERS & ECHOES
A literary scrapbook of thoughts and fragments, where words drift before they take their final shape
“Beneath the crumbling archway, the garden still breathed with roses, their faded petals carrying the memory of a love that had once defied the dark. She lingered there, unsure if it was the fragrance of the flowers or the echo of his voice that held her captive.”
"The air shifted, thick with the weight of something unseen. From the corner of her eye, she caught the sway of the curtains though no wind stirred outside. A whisper—low, broken, and impossibly close—brushed her ear, though the room was empty. The faint smell of rose perfume filled the hall, and with it came the sound of footsteps, soft and deliberate, pacing just beyond the door."
"The forest breathed in whispers. Dew clung to the bark like pearls of glass, catching the faint morning light that sifted through the hanging veils of moss. Each strand swayed gently, brushing against unseen things that moved between the trees. A cool breeze coiled through the undergrowth, carrying with it the soft murmur of voices—faint, otherworldly, almost human. Somewhere in the distance, a lone bird called out, its song shattering the stillness for a heartbeat before fading back into the hush. The air smelled of earth and memory, as if the forest itself remembered every footstep that had ever trespassed upon its soil.
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