The Voice

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Startled awake, Kara Senecal sat up and looked around.

Something had whizzed by her head.

Seeing nothing, she leaned back against the large oak tree.

It must have been a bug.

Picking up the book that she dropped, the fourteen- year-old glanced down at the pages.

Kara shook her head and closed it. She was too tired to read anymore.

She hadn't slept well since Dad moved her and Josh, her six-month old brother, into their new home three weeks earlier.

"New" home?

Kara glared across the grassy field to the old farmhouse.

There was nothing "new" about it.

It was old, drafty and falling apart from disrepair. Dad bought it anyway, saying it was a good deal and that he would fix it up nice.

"Nice?" There was nothing nice about this place!

The house frightened her.

She felt they were being watched.

And the voice.

She heard a voice of a young girl the first night in the house, but she told herself that it was just the house making creaky noises.

Another memory popped in her mind as chills ran down her spine.

The day they first arrived, Kara caught a glimpse of a black shadow through the curtainless window of one of the rooms on the second floor.

Sitting in the front seat of their car, she froze.

Dad called her name several times before she heard him, forcing herself to look away from the window.

Unsure of what she had seen, Kara decided that it was just her imagination and not to mention it to him.

That evening, she was in the kitchen unpacking the boxes when she suddenly felt a cold breeze brush past her.

No window or door had been opened.

Shaking her head, she went back to unpacking when a whisper came from behind.

She turned to look.

Nothing.

She stood there, very still, and listened.

The whisper came again.

It sounded like a child.

She wanted to run, but her feet were rooted to the spot.

The whisper came yet again, this time louder and unmistakably clear.

"He's in danger!"

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