Shadows of Carolina
The accident happened just before sunset. Carolina had always loved the thrill of speed, even on something as small as a moped. But that evening, as she raced down the winding road near the old bridge, something went terribly wrong. The tires skidded, the brakes failed—or maybe she never pressed them. When the dust settled, she lay still, her body twisted among the scattered gravel and broken glass.
The news spread fast. By the time Emie, Cat, and Gregg arrived with the search-and-rescue team, the scene was already eerily quiet. The only sounds were the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the highway.
Gregg, the most level-headed of the group, was the first to step forward. “She was here,” he murmured, pointing to the skid marks leading to the crumpled moped.
Emie swallowed hard, gripping Cat’s hand. “Do you think she suffered?”
Before Gregg could answer, a cold wind swept through the trees, making them shiver.
“We should check the area,” Cat said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Maybe she—maybe she survived and tried to crawl for help.”
They fanned out, their flashlights piercing through the early evening gloom. Minutes passed. Then an hour. Nothing. No Carolina.
Only the moped. Only the broken helmet. Only silence.
Gregg’s voice trembled as he called out, “Carolina?”
A whisper echoed back, carried by the wind.
Not a normal echo. A voice.
A voice that sounded just like Carolina’s.
And it was laughing.
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