Yikes! The basement lights flickered again. Jamie froze, clutching the dusty photo album she’d just found behind an old furnace. Thunder growled overhead, but it wasn’t the storm making her uneasy—it was the whisper she’d just heard: “Leave.” She flipped a page. There, staring back, was her face—young, terrified—in a photo labeled 1972. But Jamie was born in 2001. The floorboards groaned. A cold hand brushed her shoulder. She spun around, heart racing, but no one was there. Then the album snapped shut on its own. She didn’t wait. She ran. Some stories don’t want to be remembered.
Thank you for reading, liking, and commenting to my posts. It is very appreciated.
I am currently raising money to pay for ongoing psychotherapy. I am a survivor of complex trauma, I have dissociative identity disorder, and complex PTSD. Therapy can be very expensive.
If you feel like donating to my fund you can donate using pay pal. My pay pal email for donating is:
Don’t feel you have to, there is no pressure, but I’m grateful for any donations that are received.
Again thanks for visiting!
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