you are here
Whose Garden Grows at Midnight
mysteryEveryone6 contributors · 3 paragraphs deep
There it is. Three plots over. Sitting in Mrs. Pratt's strawberry bed like it belongs there. Shiny with dew. Still huge. Still alive. But it wasn't here yesterday. It was in Mr. Okafor's plot, right where he'd been nursing it all summer.
There's no dirt trail behind it. No crushed strawberries. No rope marks in the skin. Whoever moved it... they were careful. They carried it like it mattered. Like they knew what they were doing.
↔ version 2 of 2 of this paragraph — hover its sides to flip. The card below is what happens next.
What happens next?
1 ways forwardVote share across the top 1 branches
A possible continuation
Under the pumpkin, there's a piece of newspaper. Folded. Wet from the soil. My hands are shaking when I pick it up. There are words written on it. In pencil. Black pencil. Very careful letters.
BD
Bram de Vries
5 votes · future 1 of 1