Diglot Weave French Short Story – A Ghost Story

Lvl 1 Nouns


“Come and find me.”

Lay down and rest upon the soft herbe that is nourished by the chair that once covered my os. Bones, that once shallowly buried, now lay bare and bleached, among the fallen branches and tangled in thick herbe far from the path you can no longer find.

Though there may be terre where my yeux once were, I will see you as you approach. I will lay my ghostly mains upon you. I am lonely here, so far from the pas of the living, I will lay my mains upon you, and you will be my amour.

And as années ago when my amour who laid me down, having led me here to this quiet place with whispered promises of devotion, and with a pierre upon my front took my future années and splashed them next to my sang upon the ground, so I too shall lay you down.

The dappled lumière du soleil through the arbres will blind you, and warm and gentle brise shall calm you.

But my toucher will not be as pierre, you will feel my main upon your front and I will whisper to you ‘Be calm my amour, breath deeply and sleep’ and the world will fall away, you will drift into a peaceful sommeil and I will pull you down into my étreinte so that you may join me here in this soft terre forever.

And we shall lay deep in the forêt on the pentes of The colline and none shall find us. You will lay with me and those who have come before you, together forever. Until once more I softly call to the solitary voyageur passing by “Come and find me”.

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