The Birdcage Sang At 3 AM π± | Horror Story #shorts
My canary died six years ago. Last night, his empty cage started singing.
I kept the cage on its stand by the window, door shut, ever since he died. But the song was his β the song he sang every morning. I turned the cage to face the wall. By morning, it faced me again, the door open, the seed dish empty. I carried it to the attic and locked the door behind me. This morning it was back on its stand, singing louder β and now the song comes from two places at once.
Tonight, the cage is silent. The song is coming from my bedroom. The bird is out of the cage. And it has stopped singing, because it is listening for me.
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