The Girl in the Wall

📅 Published on July 17, 2022

“The Girl in the Wall”

Written by P.D. Williams
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available


Rating: 9.75/10. From 4 votes.
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“Donnie, when are we gonna stop?  I’m tired, and I need to pee.”  Shannon and Donnie, her sometimes boyfriend, had been driving for hours.  They’d left Georgia for Arizona two days earlier and still had a ways to go.  The trip was more of a desperate escape than a journey toward new adventures.  Donnie was deep in debt to the wrong people, and losing his job hadn’t helped.  It had been rough going for a while until he learned that hope and hard work were no match for dumb, blind luck.  He’d talked to a cousin who had a friend that might have some construction work in Scottsdale.  Donnie had nothing to lose except the thumb that his bookie, Ramone, threatened to take in place of his gambling debts.  He hoped that a change of scenery and a fresh start might do him some good and save him some appendages.  So, Donnie packed a few of his favorite belongings, such as Shannon, and hit the road.  He prayed that the iffy motor in his worn-out 2010 Ford Mustang would last the distance.

He hoped Shannon would, as well.

Twelve hours in, Shannon needed a break, if only to have somewhere to throw up.  She was sick from the exhaust fumes leaking up through the filthy floorboard and regretted the thirty-six-ounce bladder-buster soda she’d gulped down around hour ten.

“Seriously, Donnie, I need to stop somewhere.”

“Fine.  We’ll stop at the next motel.  That make ya happy?”

“Yep: that, a commode, and a nice long shower.”  No sooner had she spoken than they approached an exit on the interstate.  A sun-bleached road sign displayed icons indicating that a bar, a gas station, and a motel were within a couple of miles.

Donnie followed the long, winding off-ramp to an empty stretch of two-lane road marked Highway 21.  A sign posted at the confluence showed the motel was located 1.5 miles down on the left; everything else to the right.  Donnie headed toward the motel and glanced at the odometer to mark the distance.

As he drove, a horrid stench blew in through the air vents.  It reminded him of untreated sewage.

Shannon crinkled her nose.  “Oh, man.  What in the world is that?”

“Probably a bog or a pig farm nearby.”

“It’s too quiet out here.  I’m gonna find somethin’ on the radio.”  Shannon pressed the auto to seek and watched station numbers flash by without stopping.  “Great.  We’re so far out in the boonies you can’t pick up anything.”

“Just grab one of them CDs and pop it in.”

“If I have to listen to any more Jason Aldean or Foo Fighters, I’m gonna jump out and walk.”

“All right, but don’t whine about how quiet it is.”

Resentment lingered as they continued along the desolate highway.  The road was dark: no streetlights, houses, or passing vehicles.  Donnie strained his eyes against the night, unable to see beyond the reach of the headlights as creeping shadows swallowed their dim rays.  A thick tangle of trees and tall grass closed in on either side.  As they pushed on, a ghostly carpet of white mist rolled over the asphalt as if to welcome them.

“I don’t like this,” Shannon said.  “It’s creepy.”

“Hey, you’re the one who needs to pop a squat and get some sleep.  Ya want me to turn around and look for someplace else?”

“No.  I can hold it a little longer.  Shouldn’t we be there by now?  The sign said it was only a mile and a half.”

Donnie checked the car’s odometer.  “Hmmm.”

“What’s up?”

“Odometer says we should’ve been there five miles ago.”

“Well, I didn’t see anything with lights on.  That sign’s probably wrong.  Just keep drivin’.  I’ll tell ya when I see somethin’.”

Several minutes later, they still hadn’t reached the motel.  “That’s it; I’m turnin’ around,” Donnie announced.  As he looked for a place to make a U-turn, he saw a glowing light in the distance.  As they got closer, he could make out a block of bright letters levitating in the soupy night air.  “Is that a motel sign?”

“Ooh!” Shannon chirped.  “I think that’s it!  Thank God—my back teeth are drownin’!” Donnie slowed and turned into the motel’s parking lot.  Fissures snaked across the ragged asphalt, whole chunks missing like rotted-out teeth.  The motel was a drab, one-story, brick building with a neon sign above the door of a small office.  Some of its letters were dead and gone, but enough of them remained to let Donnie and Shannon know they’d be spending the night at Miller’s Motel.

Donnie eased the Mustang into one of the parking spaces nearest the door.  He was about to kill the engine when something dark ran past his side of the car.  “You see that?”

“See what?”

Donnie turned off the motor.  “Stay here a sec.  I wanna check this place out.” He got out and looked around the vacant lot.  The air was hot and stale, abandoned by the wind.  The fetid odor from earlier was stronger here.  Although he didn’t see anything unusual, the eeriness of the scene disquieted him.  It reminded him of the feeling he would get when he boarded an empty elevator, and a stranger stepped inside at the last minute.

“Is everything okay?” Shannon yelled.

Donnie gave the area another once-over.  “It’s all good—just a little White Line Fever.  Come on, let’s get checked in.”

Shannon got out of the car and took a few steps before stopping.  “Whoa.  This joint looks like somethin’ out of a slasher movie.  If I wasn’t so worn out, I’d pee behind a bush and keep movin’ till we found a Holiday Inn.”

“Relax; ain’t nothin’ gonna grab ya.”

As soon as they entered the cramped lobby, a sour scent of stale mop water and lemon air freshener encompassed them.  One of the two fluorescent tubes inside the overhead light fixture flickered, creating a strobing effect.  No one was manning the small Formica counter that served as a front desk.  There was a closed wooden door a few feet behind it.  “Hello?  Anybody back there?” Donnie hollered.  “You got customers up front!”

“Just a minute, please,” a whiny voice answered.  “Be right with ya.”  The door opened, and a short, chubby man in a white dress shirt appeared.  The sweat-yellowed fabric worked in tandem with overburdened buttons to restrain an overflowing belly.  A plastic pocket badge with ‘Leonard’ imprinted on it complemented the seedy ensemble.  “What’ll it be, friends?”

Donnie and Shannon took a step back to get out of range of the clerk’s body odor, a noxious mix of armpits and halitosis.

“We’d like a room for the night,” Donnie said.

“I believe we can manage that.”  Leonard reached under the counter and grabbed a plastic binder, from which a pen dangled at the end of a long string like a condemned outlaw.  Placing it on the counter, he flipped through some dog-eared pages until he came to a blank one.  He spun the binder around to face Donnie.  “Just put your name and a phone number I can reach you at on that top line, please.”

Donnie snickered.  “You’re kind of old school, ain’tcha?  Don’t you got a computer, internet access?”

“No service this far out,” Leonard explained.  “We don’t see a whole lotta business; just the occasional one-nighters…like you two.” His sly wink made Shannon uncomfortable.

“Yeah, I figured that much by lookin’ at your parkin’ lot,” Donnie said.  “What do I owe ya?”

“I dunno.  Whatever you think’s fair.”


Leonard leaned over the counter and said in a hushed voice, “Look, the owner doesn’t always come around, and you two look dog-tired.  So how ’bout we do twenty dollars?  Sound about right?”

“Sold!” Shannon declared.

Donnie laid a bill on the counter as Leonard retrieved a key from a hook on the wall.

“Here ya go: Room 11.  Let me know if you need anything else.  I’m Leonard, and I’ll be here all night.  When you go out, hang a left; number’s on the door.”

Shannon thanked Leonard, and she and Donnie headed for the room.  Along the way, they swatted through swarms of moths orbiting around the bare light bulbs on the side of each door. When they got to the room, they rushed inside before the squadron of insects joined them.

An unpleasant smell greeted them: dank and pungent, a stink of pot and sex lingering from previous occupants.  The gaudy room looked like it hadn’t been remodeled for a very long time. The furniture was worn, old, and cheap.  Grimy shag carpeting accentuated fading, peeling wallpaper.  Donnie flipped a sticky light switch, and a lamp snapped on.

“So,” Shannon said, “this is what a twenty-dollar room looks like.”

Donnie surveyed the squalid accommodations and shook his head.  “Don’t you have to pee or somethin’?”

“You better know it, cowboy!” Shannon made a bee-line to the bathroom.

Donnie pulled back the tacky covers on the queen-sized bed, exposing a dingy, threadbare sheet.  Though a bit road-weary, he felt a pulsing in his loins.  There was something about being with Shannon in a cheap motel room.  He stripped to his boxers, climbed under the covers, and waited for her to return.

The bathroom door swung open, and Shannon walked out.  She stopped and looked at Donnie lying in bed, a look of hope plastered across his grinning face.  “You’re kiddin’, right?”

“Come on, babe.  We can mess around and then grab a hot shower together.  Speakin’ of grabbin’…”  He flipped down her side of the covers and patted the mattress.

“Donnie, I told you I was tired.  I’m gonna get my bag out of the car, come back, and wash off. Then I’m goin’ to sleep.  Understand?”

Flushed with disappointment, Donnie threw back the covers and jumped out of bed.  “Fine, then.  You do whatcha want.  I’m takin’ off.”

Shannon glared at him.  “Where you goin’?  I know good and well you ain’t gonna leave me here in this twenty-dollar outhouse by myself!”

Donnie hurriedly got dressed.  “I’m gonna find a bar.  You take your stupid shower.  I’ll have some fun tonight—with or without ya!”  He fished his car keys out of his jeans pocket and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Shannon didn’t think he’d actually leave.  When she heard the Mustang’s engine revving, she panicked.  The thought of being alone at the isolated motel filled her with dread.  She ran from the room and headed for the parking lot.

Shannon arrived in time to see the red taillights of the car peering back at her like two devilish eyes.  “Donnie Jackson, don’t you leave me here!”  He kept going.  “Donnie, you’re a dead man!”

As Shannon sulked in the now-empty parking lot, she noticed a large shadow forming on the edge of the woods across the street.  It floated across the parking lot like an ominous cloud. Suddenly, all the night sounds ceased.  In the quiet, Shannon thought she heard breathing. She spun around, expecting to see that creepy desk clerk behind her, but there was no one.  As the shadow passed in front of the lone streetlight at the entrance to the motel, the light dimmed. Shannon furrowed her brow.  The temperature dropped noticeably; she could see her own breath.  “Enough of this mess.”  Shivering, Shannon trotted back to the room.

She locked the deadbolt and then closed the room’s thick curtains.  She looked through the door’s peephole.  “Geez, how’d it get so cold?” She wondered if her uneasiness about being stranded was playing tricks on her mind.  It’s probably just a cold front.  Still, she couldn’t deny that something felt different.  Threatening.  The mist was so weird.  She waited, half-expecting a knock or seeing the mist wafting under the door, invading her lungs and filling them with dry, black dust.  “Keep it together, girl.  You’re way overthinking this.”

After several minutes, nothing happened.  She inched her way to the window and peeked through the slit between the curtains.  There was nothing outside.  Just the parking lot.  She allowed herself to relax a bit.  “God, I need a drink, but a hot shower will have to do.”

Shannon was about to look around the room for her toiletries bag when she realized it had accompanied Donnie to the bar.  “Thanks, jackass,” she hissed through gritted teeth.  She made a silent vow never to let him see her naked ever again.  Shannon removed her cell phone from her back pocket and tried calling him.  But as Leonard had said, there was no reception. “Well, that’s just great.  Guess I’ll just have to make the best of this dung heap.”  Shannon looked at the ancient tube television sitting on the dresser, wondering if it still worked—it didn’t. “This suuucks!”

She plopped on the bed and stared at a brown water stain on the ceiling.  It kind of looks like a cross between a bird and a star, that or a plop of poop.  She amused herself by attempting to figure out what the pattern reminded her of, as though she were taking a discount Rorschach test.  Hmmm.

Thump thump

The noise came from within the wall.  “Must be mice,” she muttered.


“Hello?  Hello?” The voice was faint, a whisper in the air.

Shannon sat up.

Thump thump

The knocking traveled from the bathroom.  Shannon shivered.  The mist, the cold, the curious tapping, and the disembodied voice made her apprehensive.  Easy, girl.  Let’s go in there and get to the bottom of this.  She slid carefully off the bed and stood motionless, concentrating.  “H-hello?” she murmured.  Shannon was hoping there’d be no response, that she could chalk everything up to frazzled nerves.  Hearing nothing, she remained still, quieting her breath.  The profound absence of sound made her think of being underwater.  Seconds ticked by.

Thump thump

She tensed.  The dull rapping emanated from the other side of the wall.  She tiptoed closer.  A muffled, child-like voice penetrated the sheetrock barrier.  “Can you hear me?  Please, say yes.”

Shannon chuckled.  “Oh my gosh, it’s only a little girl.”

“Did you say something?”

Shannon considered whether she wanted to start a conversation with the mysterious child. What might the little girl’s parents think if they caught her communicating with a stranger?  Bless her heart; she’s probably lonesome and bored.  Just keep it short.  “What’s your name, sugar?”

“I’m Melissa.  Who are you?”

“Hi, Melissa, my name’s Shannon.  I guess you’re my new next-door neighbor.  I didn’t hear y’all pull in.  When did ya get here?”

A brief pause.  Then: “A while back.”

“Really?  We just got here.  Was the weather actin’ up when you arrived?  It was doin’ somethin’ freaky earlier.”

“I don’t remember.  Can you keep me company?” Shannon hesitated.  Now that she’d satisfied her curiosity, she didn’t want to get hooked into a long conversation.  “I’d like to, honey, but I’m gettin’ ready for bed.  Nice talkin’ to ya, though.”  The child said nothing more.  Shannon assumed that she either had gotten bored or feared her parents busting her.

Shannon went back to the front room and lay down on the bed again.  She closed her eyes, allowing the stillness to relax her.


Shannon popped up.  She took a moment to catch her breath.  Who’s watchin’ that brat?


“That’s it.  I’ve had enough crap thrown at me tonight.”  Shannon sprang from the bed and hammered the wall with her fist.  “Hey!  Why don’t you people watch your stupid kid!  I’m tryin’ to rest over here!”

Her outburst drew no reaction.

“Yeah, you better keep it down,” she mumbled.

Growl…growl…Shannon’s hollow belly was complaining.  “I wonder if there’s a vending machine around this dump.”  She felt around in her front pocket and found a couple of dollars.  With some effort, she managed to push aside the earlier weirdness in the parking lot.  Releasing a heavy breath, she said, “Okay, here we go,” and headed to the door.  She stopped halfway when she heard a child crying.

Shannon followed the sound to the bathroom wall.  It wasn’t pained or a whaddaya mean I can’t watch TV?  Sort of cry.  It sounded mournful, frightened.  Her annoyance turned to

genuine concern.  “Melissa, is that you, sweetie?” The crying ceased.

“Melissa?  Are you okay?”

“Please, don’t hurt me,” the small voice begged.

Shannon froze.  Who’s she talkin’ to?  Was the child in danger?  She pressed her ear against the wall.  Soundlessness filled the space within.

“Help!  Shannon, heeelp!”

Shannon jumped back.  She had no idea what the situation was next door.  I can’t even call 911.

“Noooo!” Melissa hollered.  “Don’t do it!” Something smashed against the wall, and Melissa wailed louder.

Shannon’s instincts kicked in.  “I’m comin’, Melissa!” Shannon bolted from her room, ran next door, and began banging on the door of Room 10.  Melissa was screaming; somebody was tossing furniture.  “Hey!  Leave that kid alone!”  Suddenly, a blanket of quiet dropped.  Shannon kicked the door.  “You better open this door, or I’ll knock it down!” She expected more yelling, but none came.  It was as if someone had hit the stop button on a recording.  Shannon was shaking with anger, panting from exertion.  What in the Sam Hill is happenin’ in there?  She tried peeking in the window but couldn’t see around the heavy curtains; no light bled through the narrow opening.  She heard only cricket songs and the soft fluttering of moths’ wings.  She turned to the parking lot and realized no other car was there.  Her neck tingled.  She wanted to get back inside quickly, to feel the comfort of light.

After securing the door, Shannon sat down at the round, wobbly table under the window to think.  “I don’t like this.  Thanks, Donnie!” As angry as she was at him for abandoning her for the sake of his entertainment, she couldn’t remember a time when she’d wanted to see him more.

“Shannon?  Are you still there?”

Cold swept over her.  Don’t answer her.  Just ignore her, and maybe she’ll go away.

“I think he just left.  Please, I need you,” the child pleaded.

“Whoever you are, this ain’t funny no more,” Shannon said.  “Leave me alone, or I’ll call the cops!”  Or at least I would if the stupid phone worked.

“But he’s coming back!”

There was genuine fear in the girl’s voice.  Shannon wondered if she might be dealing with child abduction despite the strange happenings.  Or, given her anxious state of mind, if there was a little girl at all.  She couldn’t be sure.  I think I’d rather be dealin’ with ghosts.  But her conscience wouldn’t let her rest.

Shannon went into the bathroom and stood at the wall.  “Melissa, who’s comin’?”

“The scary man.  I don’t want to be here anymore.  Please, help me get out!”

Shannon’s heart thudded.  “Is there any way out of there?”

“No, I’m locked in.  And there’s no light.”

She bit her bottom lip.  She could use a chair to break open the wall and free the captive girl. But what if the man was still there?  “Melissa, I’m goin’ for help.  You need to be very quiet.  I’ll be back soon.”

“But I’m scared of the dark.  I need some kind of light.” Shannon licked her dry lips.  She knew she needed to bring help, but she hated the idea of leaving Melissa alone, crying in the black room.

“Shannon, are you there?  He’s probably close.  Please, hurry.”

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking.”

“I have an idea.  What if I dig a little hole on my side of the wall while you dig one on yours? That way we could meet in the middle.  Then I can share your light.”

Shannon considered Melissa’s plan.  It might give the frightened child some comfort while she went for help.

“Honey, is there anything in there you can dig with?” “I don’t know; I can’t see anything.”

“Just feel around.  I’ll look for somethin’ over here.”  Shannon searched the room quickly, hoping to find something small and breakable she could use to penetrate the sheetrock.  Turning up nothing useful, she returned to the bathroom.  “Melissa, did you find anything?”

“No.  Did you?”

“No.” Then a thought came to her.  She scraped the decrepit wall, and a wisp of white dust floated around her fingertip.

“Look, this sheetrock is old and thin, so we might be able to dig it out with our fingernails.  I’m gonna scratch on my wall.  When you hear it, follow the sound and start diggin’.  Okay, get ready to listen.” Shannon scratched the sheetrock at a height she thought a little girl might be able to reach.  She paused to check on Melissa.  “Did ya hear that?  It’s about four feet from the floor.”

“Yeah, I heard you.  I know where you are now.”  There was relief in Melissa’s voice.  “I’ll start digging—here I go.”

Shannon began chipping away at the drywall.  As she suspected, the sheetrock was brittle, so she had little trouble breaking through.  She poked her index finger into the hole and wiggled it around so Melissa could better locate her.  “Melissa, feel around for my finger.”

The child said nothing.

“Sweetie, did ya hear me?  Feel around for my finger.”


“Yeah, darlin’?”

“He’s here.”

Something grabbed Shannon’s finger and yanked it with enough force to dislocate it from her knuckle.  The pain was immediate.  She jerked her disconnected finger back, but its hold was too strong and made her skin stretch like a rubber band.  There was a loud crunch as the digit’s middle joint snapped upward.  Shannon howled.

“You leave her alone!” yelled Melissa.

The attacker applied a tighter grip on Shannon’s L-shaped finger and tugged the rest of her hand further into the wall.

“Let me goooo!” Shannon squealed.

Melissa was sobbing.  “I can’t make him stop!”

Shannon realized that if she were going to have any chance of rescuing Melissa and herself, she’d have to act quickly.  Using her good hand, she punched a hole in the weakened wall and then grabbed her attacker’s arm.  “Run, baby—ruuun!”

Another large hand seized Shannon’s arm and began squeezing, its sharp nails puncturing her skin.  She thrashed around like an animal in a trap.  The needle-like pain in her arm grew as the fingers clawed deeper into her stinging flesh.  She wailed when the hand fully penetrated her arm, taking hold of the bone underneath.

Shannon grunted as mind-twisting terror hammered at her.  She put her foot against the wall for leverage and readied herself for the explosion of agony that was to come.  As she pushed away from the wall, her arm made low, snapping sounds.  Her nerve endings were on fire; screams burned her vocal cords.

Suddenly, the grip relaxed.  Shannon flew backward and crashed against the opposite wall, nipping her tongue, the tang of blood coating it.  She dropped to the floor and forced herself to assess the damage.  Her arm looked like someone had filleted it with a dull knife.  The bone in the middle joint of her index finger had ripped through the skin.  A flood of thick crimson poured from the wound like an open tap.  Small, white dots swarmed her vision.  She tried crawling from the bathroom, but her shredded arm’s blood and ripped tendons made her slip.


The wall split from the holes down to the floor and pulsed outward.  A tall, cadaverous figure in a tattered black suit pushed through the crevice like a malformed baby.  The spindly horror had no eyes, just deep, black holes weeping maggots.  Its nose was two horizontal slits from which a syrupy discharge oozed.  With its drooping skin and long, gaping mouth, it looked like a caricature of a screaming corpse.  It turned and lowered its bald head toward Shannon.  “Come with meeee.”

Shannon’s deafening shrieks reverberated in the blood-splattered room.  Shock overtook her ruined body, masking the pain.  With the torment temporarily at bay, she tried crawling with her useless arm again.

The thing laughed, deep and gravelly.  It grabbed Shannon by her ankles and pulled her toward the opening.

She dug the fingernails of her crippled hand into the tile.  The broken finger turned around in the opposite direction, as the nails from the remaining fingers snapped in half.  Shannon went into shock.  “Momma…Momma…Momma…” she mumbled.

The thing threw back its head and screamed, a cacophony of terrifying sounds rushing from its throat.  The labored breaths of the otherworldly fog, the ghostly whispers of the terrified girl, and every horrified victim before her were captured in its unearthly shrieks.  It dragged Shannon’s raw body over the hole’s jagged shards, plummeting her into the world of shadows beyond the wall.


The phone on the counter rang only once before Leonard answered it—he never kept it waiting. He drew the receiver to his ear.

“It’s done,” said the voice.  “Come.”

Leonard shook; he’d never gotten used to its haunting hiss.  He allowed his nerves to settle before going into the closet and grabbing the mop bucket and rags, then headed to the room where the mess would be waiting.


A few hours later, Donnie swerved into the parking spot outside Room 11.  Wobbly and reeking of whiskey, he jabbed around the door lock with the key, getting lucky on the fourth attempt.  He unlocked the door and staggered into the room.  Only the cheap lamp on the water-ringed bedside table illuminated it.

Shannon wasn’t in the bedroom.  Donnie glanced at the partially closed bathroom door.  “Babe, you in there?”  She didn’t answer.  Seeing the light peeking around the jamb, Donnie figured he still might have a chance to make things right until he screwed up again.

He ambled to the door and knocked.  “Darlin’?”  She didn’t respond.  “Come on, Shannon. Don’t be like that.  I just needed to get away for a while.”  Donnie opened the door and looked inside.  He groaned at the empty bathroom.

Where could she have gone?  She didn’t have a car!  Maybe Leonard had seen her go.

Donnie was near the front door when he heard the sound.

“Donnie?  Donnie?”

“Shannon?  That you, sugar?”


How the hell’d I miss her?  Donnie returned to the bathroom, looked behind the shower curtain, and found it empty.  “Where you at, babe?”

“Donnie, I need you.”

The muffled voice was coming from the other side of the wall.  He went over and leaned his ear close to it.  “Shannon?  What are ya doin’ next door?”  When she didn’t answer, he pounded on the wall.  “Shannon, quit foolin’ around and get back over here!  Look, I’m sorry I left ya to go drinkin’.”

“Donnie?  Can you hear me?” the voice whispered.

“Barely.  Look, I’m tired of this crap.  I’m comin’ over there.”

“Donnie, please listen to me.  I-I need to be as quiet as possible.  Come closer to the wall.  Baby, it’s important.”

Donnie pressed the side of his head against the discolored sheetrock.  “Okay, what is it?” He didn’t have time to scream as the hands burst through the wall, grabbed his head, and pulled.


The phone in the grimy office rang.  Leonard answered it on the first ring.  He never kept it waiting.

Rating: 9.75/10. From 4 votes.
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🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

Written by P.D. Williams
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

🔔 More stories from author: P.D. Williams

Publisher's Notes: N/A

Author's Notes: N/A

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Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

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