It Was Her Fault

Man, I picked the wrong spot to dig the grave.

I was prepared to cut through roots, but it wasn’t till I tried digging with the spade that I realized nothing could grow in this clay-filled rocky earth. I sighed, grabbed the pick, and began swinging. There was still standing water in spots, and it took several hours to make the hole big enough to hold the body.

My plan had been to add a flowering shrub after I filled in the hole, and I had decided to use a hardy variety of azalea with heady fruit scented blossoms. I realized now though, that the best I could do was throw some scrub pine seeds in on top of her body, hoe the replaced soil into something that appeared natural, and hope that it remained undiscovered for a couple years.

Hopefully a tree would finish hiding what she’d made me do.

-----------------------