Pale Hands at Midnight


At midnight, she rummaged through the dumpster with long, pale, mud-stained fingers. All around her, other shadowy people were doing the same, their saucer-wide eyes watching for a sign of the Abovefolk.

She chanced upon two bears and a doll, neglected and forgotten. Taking them in her arms, she carried them Beneath, where all the forgotten things go.

Down in the deep, amongst mud and stone, along the twisting halls of Underneath, the children of the Underfolk play. Sometimes they laugh so loudly that you can hear them above, the faintest whisper of a giggle hanging in the quiet air.

Word Count: 100

This is for Friday Fictioners. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for running the challenge and Karuna for the prompt photo!

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