Every Halloween, the town elders left a pillowcase of candy at the end of Burnhill Way. A sacrifice to the child who mysteriously disappeared here decades ago.
But this year, a few teenagers had a different idea.
Shortly after midnight, they huddled beneath the trees, shoveling fistfuls of chocolate into their pockets while mocking the locals.
Then came the shriek of rusted metal. The teens looked out at the street and saw a pair of little hands. Ghostly white. Lifting the heavy manhole cover with ease.
One kid gasped, another whimpered.
And no one laughed at the legend after that.
The Weekday One Hundred 