Whispers of Death
Her Pov
I was six when the doctors first said the word "cancer." At first, I didn't understand why everyone around me was crying. Years passed in hospital rooms, endless medicines, and days when I was too tired to even play. I watched my friends grow up through photos while I counted birthdays between treatments.
Cancer took my hair, my strength, and many of my childhood memories
By eighteen, the doctors had stopped looking hopeful. Every report looked the same. Every treatment seemed to fail. They searched for signs of improvement, but there were none
I could see it in their eyes before they spoke the words. I was destined to die, and everyone knew it.
For my last few months, I went to my granny's house. The doctors had already given up hope. No treatment was working, and every report seemed worse than the last. My parents said it was time to spend whatever days I had left with the people I loved.
Everyone tried to act normal, but I could see the sadness hiding behind their smiles. My grandmother held my hand a little tighter. My cousins laughed a little louder. My grandfather told me the same stories he had told me when I was a child, as if he was trying to give me one last piece of happiness to carry with me.
Until one day, I was out alone at midnight, wandering through the village roads. Sleep had become difficult lately, and I wanted to spend what little time I had left under the open sky instead of staring at a hospital ceiling.
The village was silent. The only sounds were the distant chirping of crickets and the rustling of leaves in the warm night breeze. As I walked across the empty field, my eyes caught something unusual.
On the opposite side of the old banyan tree stood a small flame.
It wasn't a bonfire or a lantern. Just a tiny fire, flickering steadily in the darkness as if someone had lit it moments ago. The strange thing was that there was no one around. The field was empty.
I stopped walking.
I stopped just a few steps away.
Then it happened.
A hand emerged from within the fire.
It shot out and wrapped its fingers around my wrist.
I stumbled backward, my mouth opening to scream, but no sound came out. The world around me seemed to freeze. The field, the wind, even the distant sounds of the village disappeared into an eerie silence.
The hand tightened its grip.
Before I could understand what was happening, a sharp pain exploded through my body. My vision blurred. The fire's glow stretched into strange shapes, and the stars above began to spin.
Darkness crept across my sight like ink spreading through water.
My legs gave way beneath me.
Then everything went black.
And I fell to the ground.
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