30 Consecutive Days of Blogging (XXIII)

From "Children, 1801":

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Shells, says she, are shells with nothing in them. So, they went to bed: nothing in sound. Sleep awoke early, crept out of its eyes & trembled, for there was not a sound except the thunder of the end. The door determined to see what the door thought of opening. Awake & hear noise (waking was dreaming). At the door, set a trap for night. Hear voices & eat noise. Hear noise & search for the hole underneath the door.

Hear voices in the next room. The hole underneath the door hoped to conceal a hand. A hand is but daylight all gone. A hand is a hand, but a hand is also bones that are crooked & gone to fear.