Scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch β€œHello?” Scratch scratch scratch scratch β€œHello? Somebody? Anybody?!” Scratch scratch scratch scratch β€œCan anybody hear me?! Please! Please, get me out of here!” Casey stirred. He couldn’t see anything, but he could hear her loud and clear. β€œDove? Is that you?” Of course it was. Her voice was...

The Mandela Effect. That phrase never meant anything to me. Spooky, I guess, but it wasn’t something I thought about for more than five minutes. I mean, honestly, until college, I didn’t even know what it was. I’m not one for conspiracy theories or ghost...

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