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**Screams From The Past**
**Chapter 7**
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As I drove away from the abandoned farm, the eerie atmosphere clung to me like a shadow. The Whitmore family cemetery and the unsettling inscriptions on their tombstones haunted my thoughts. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to their story, something hidden beneath the surface that connected to the present.
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Back in town, I decided to dig deeper into the history of the Whitmore family. I headed to the local library, hoping to find any records or documents that could shed light on their past. The librarian, an elderly woman with a knowing smile, seemed intrigued by my inquiry. She led me to the archives, a dusty room filled with old newspapers and town records.
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As I sifted through the yellowed pages, a pattern began to emerge. The Whitmore family had been prominent in the area during the 1800s, but their legacy was marred by tragedy. Rumors of strange occurrences and unexplained deaths surrounded their farm. Some whispered of a curse, while others spoke of a dark secret that had torn the family apart.
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One article caught my attention—a report of a mysterious fire that had consumed the Whitmore farmhouse in 1851, shortly after Abigail's death. The fire was deemed accidental, but whispers of foul play persisted.
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As I delved deeper, I discovered a chilling connection. The Whitmore family had been involved in a land dispute with another prominent family in the area, the Cornwalls. The same Cornwalls whose descendant owned the Cornwall Foundry in the 1930s. The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fit together, but the picture they formed was disturbing.
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Determined to uncover the truth, I decided to visit the Cornwall estate, hoping to find answers. As I prepared to leave, the librarian stopped me, her expression suddenly serious. "You're not going to find anything," she said. "The Cornwall estate is gone. It's Cornwall Memorial Cemetery now. Detective, some stories are better left buried."
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Her words sent a chill down my spine. "The Whitmores have a curse on them," she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And anyone digging around for answers will inherit the curse as well."
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In that moment, I thought I heard a demonic voice echoing in my mind: "STAY AWAY!"
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A jolt of fear shot through me, and I felt a cold sweat break out on my skin. The librarian's voice returned to normal, as if nothing had happened. "Have a good day, Detective," she said with a polite smile.
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I managed to stammer out a delayed "Thank you," my mind reeling from the encounter. As I left the library, the weight of the past pressed down on me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being drawn into something far darker than I had imagined. The screams of the past were growing louder, and I feared what they might reveal.
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