The Jar Under the Bed
Written for Macabre Monday
Prompt: Write a flash fiction from the POV of a kid discovering the thrill and mystery of the macabre.
I found it while looking for my lost Hot Wheels. The jar was tucked way in the back, under the dusty springs of my bed. Inside, something pale and curled floated like a little moon in the formaldehyde. A finger.
My heart hammered, but I didn’t scream. I wanted to scream. But more than that, I wanted to know. Whose finger was it? How long had it been here? Did Dad know? Did Mum?
I held the jar up to the lamplight. The fingertip was wrinkled, the nail yellowed but still whole. It looked… peaceful. Like it had accepted its fate.
That night, I dreamed it twitched. Just once. A little tap against the glass of the jar. In the morning, the jar was gone.
I never found my Hot Wheels. But sometimes, when I’m lying in bed, I press my palm to the floorboards and wonder if something is pressing back.