The Sunken
The Echoing Whispers of a Drowned Crew
We speak in static, hunger in whispers.
We were a crew once. Men of steel and salt, now scattered like broken signals. The sea took our bodies but the island took our time. We linger in the hum of old radios, calling out through the voices of the living. We don’t mean to frighten. We only want to remember. And maybe, just maybe, bring someone down with us.
What I'm Into: flickering dials, salt-stained decks, borrowed breath, the hum of the unseen, echoes in the dark
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