الصوت المشترك

“I’ve been in the dark long enough to know… some things don’t want to be found.” There’s an old story in my town. About a little girl… who never grew up. They say she died in 1963. Collapsed on a carousel. Buried too quickly. Some people believe… she wasn’t dead yet. I used to laugh at that. Until I went there. The old fairgrounds were empty. Rotting wood. Broken rides. A carousel frozen in place… like it was still waiting. At first… nothing. Just my footsteps. Then— tap… tap