Birdsong and even the distant rush of the waves died away as I dug, till the scrape of metal against stone sounded loudly through the silent forest. Finally I stopped to mop away the sweat that was streaming down my face and stinging my eyes. Now I could read what was carved into the stone.
ANNE MARIE PEARSON
BELOVED WIFE AND DAUGHTER
TAKEN FROM US BY THE CRUEL SEA
DECEMBER 12TH, 1874
AGE 18 YEARS, 2 MONTHS, 28 DAYS
It has to be a hoax. Somebody's playing a practical joke on me, the skeptical part of my mind whispered. But my vision was blurring with unshed tears. And Annie was saying something.
"I'm sorry, Darren. I'm so sorry! I should have kept my vow. I have no right to bother the living." I looked up just in time to see the side of her pale face dwindling as she moved away through the trees.
"Annie! Annie, come back!" But the forest was silent. A moment later birdsong pierced the too-bright sunshine.
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