Write about growing something.

I plunged my hands deep into the damp earth and sighed contentedly. This was my happy place. I just moved into my new winter condo in Anaheim and I was already in love with the backyard. I picked up the various seed packets and got to work, strategically planting them.

Everyone back home in Maine was suffering in 2 feet of snow, while I baked in the hot California sun. Getting a home out here was the best decision I ever made. I love the Maine summers but the winters were evil. I finally felt comfortable enough financially to splurge on this condo.

"Hey there, new neighbor!" The dude next door called out. I waved at him and his kid.

"Hello! How are you doing?" I asked, not all that interested but I figured I needed to at least be friendly.

"Doing well, thanks!" He started but then was pulled away by his little boy.

"Come ON, dad."

I waved goodbye and continued working. As I dug deeper into the earth, I thought about my next big project. I really wanted to put a deck...

I stopped.

I looked down into the dirt I was digging into.

I squinted.

I realized what I was looking at.

I screamed bloody murder and recoiled backwards.

There was a loose hand in my backyard. Awesome.

“Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.”