Friday Fictioneers
9 October 2026
The Handprints
Every morning, Ellie walked beneath the bridge on her way home.
She knew every crack in the concrete, every stone beside the stream.
But not the handprints.
They appeared overnight—muddy palms smeared high across the pillar, far beyond anyone’s reach.
Ellie stopped.
Five fingers.
Then another.
And another, trailing upward until they vanished beneath the bridge.
She stepped closer.
Something splashed behind her.
The stream was empty.
Then she noticed a fresh print beside her shoulder.
Mud dripped slowly down the concrete.
Ellie backed away.
Behind her came a wet slap.
Then another.
Getting closer.
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff- Fields
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— Maggie The Afterlove Voice 💫
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