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Frank's back on the bridge, dodging sprawling vines as thick as his secrets, crushing the dark fruit beneath his soles as he flees. He must catch the train. Her voice traps him. The child he cannot ignore. "I watched you, Uncle Frank. I saw what you did." He can hear the train's whistle. She clings to him, holding him tight as the horror approaches . . .
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Shypoke: A short horror story Ratings
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