(I’ll be honest, this snippet is kind of depressing, but it’s about how whispers and gossip can be like a weapon used by the devil. I hope it’s interesting and not too weird! ~Willow)

At school there were whispers. Whispers about the girl with the scars, whispers about the boy with the broken heart, whispers about the kid who slept in a car.

Whispers, they hide the truth with their hissing and their snickers. Whispers, sneaking around the building like plumes of smoke, rising and intoxicating all who smell it, stinging the victims’ noses.

And soon, their brains.

Those whispers, they were all from you. The Whisperer. The one who spreads, who twists, who insists that the darkness is best. The fallen one, the star that hit the earth.

You whisper in the ears of people. Slithering up behind them like a snake, your tongue flapping in their ears, your moist breath warming their minds to the idea of your deceit and lies.

You cannot create. So you twist. And the twisted things, you know how to make them far more appealing to us.

And so we listen.