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Whose Garden Grows at Midnight
mysteryEveryone6 contributors · 4 paragraphs deep
'Still warm,' I say. Mrs. Pratt looks at me. 'You think someone carried it? Like, recently?' She kneels down and points at the soil underneath. 'Look. Tiny marks. Small hands. Maybe very small hands.'
'I was awake,' Mrs. Pratt says slowly. 'Around 2 a.m. I heard footsteps. I thought it was the neighbor's dog. But it wasn't running. It was walking. Steady. Like someone with purpose. I almost went outside.' She stops. 'I wish I had.'
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