Digging My Grave Novels & Stories

Instead, they screech like vultures and grab her legs, dragging her into a hole in the ground. Her frightened scream makes me open my eyes and search beneath the tree. It seems someone has dug in this spot before, but that doesn't stop me from clawing up dirt. Wet mud presses underneath my nails, and the smell of soil infiltrates my mind, yet I keep on digging, shrieking when I find a bloodied hand. "OH MY GOD!" Panic swells within me, and I don't breathe until I feel large hands drag me away from the rotten hand attached to a thin, injured, purple arm—if I keep on digging, I will find a dead body.

I didn't even bother to ask how he knew where to find us seeing how distraught he was. 'What is it now? ' My mate looked at the heaving teenager, waiting impatiently for him to speak. 'Mimi's grave...Someone dug her coffin out. ' 'What? ' We asked simultaneously, mouth agape and eyes wide trying to comprehend what he had just said. 'Why would someone dig a corpse out? ' I thought aloud, trying to come up with a possible explanation for this creepy happenings. 'Not just that, the remains of Mimi specifically. ' My mate whispered, thoughts running wild like mine.

Sarah Here I am with a shovel in my hand, in a cemetery, digging my own grave! Okay fine, greatly exaggerated. But I may as well be doing that with the decision I'm about to make. I'll probably be dead by the end of the day. I wasn't at all certain about it... But come on, when have I really been certain about anything in my life?

All I know is that I don't have much time left. After searching for awhile, I finally come across the one place I was looking for. It was marked as the grave as the unknown soldier. I could see that the dirt had recently been disturbed, telling me that I'm in the right location. I run to the grave, finding anything I can use to help dig. I notice a shovel leaning against a tree not too far away, and quickly run to it. I grab it, then immediately run back to the gravesite. I dig as fast as I can, not caring about the strain on my muscles. Rather just digging as if I'm fighting for my own life.

The black of the ground have already tainted his skin, and the rotting smell hugged her nostrils indefinitely, but he still continued to shovel joes and janes trying to be anhedonic in staring the relics of the past responsibility-dodgers to uncover something…anything. As he dug his hundredth grave 6 feet under with his foot in it, a certain group of rowdy looking men approached. He had no time to think of a faux escape of circumvention because he had not sleep, no breakfast and no energy. So, he did what he thought would work best for him: hide under one of the corpse brides he got the privilege to meet. He opened a small hole at the edge of the sarcophagus for oxygen because the feet tap-d

Slowly, beginning at midnight, I began digging a small hole into which I could easily step my leg. I've already excavated half of the mound into which I can easily step my legs on the fourth day, with only half more to do. I didn't get to close my eyes for a wink, and I believe it was already damaging my lower eyelid. I was exhausted and out of energy. It was becoming increasingly difficult for me to move my limbs. I step down, one by one, from the niches I dug and slump upon the earth.

He then dropped the phone and grabbed a shovel from the ground, slamming it into the dirt, digging fast. Please. Please be alive. A memory hits me – her smile that morning. The way she'd kissed me before leaving for I left for work. "I love you," she'd said. I can’t even remember if I said it back. Oh God. "DIG FASTER!" I don't recognize my own voice. The two of us worked like animals, tearing the earth beneath our hands. But it wasn’t fucking fast enough. She’s going to die down there. She might already be dead.

New message. A photo of our cemetery, time-stamped five minutes ago. Fresh dirt disturbed. A shovel in frame. Under it, three words. DIG HIM UP.

Out of frustration, she twisted his ear hard as they walked down the street. Liam screamed in pain. He started crying and throwing a fit. His incessant cries and shrieks caused Sophia to lose control and give him a good beating. Inside the villa, James collapsed onto the couch, feeling utterly dejected. He thought mournfully, "Naomi… Celeste… Where are you?"

As I looked at the beautiful dresses in my wardrobe—ones I had specially bought to wear for Leonardo—I fell into a daze. Ever since we got together, his attitude toward me grew colder with each passing day. He had always said I was boring and lame, unlike other she-wolves who were beautiful and charming. But I wasn't like this in the beginning. His endless indifference and neglect left me disappointed and hopeless. Over time, I became a dull, lifeless version of myself. As I turned to look at the children's room, a terrible pain gripped my heart. Our son, Jack, was only five years old. He was meant to be the future heir of the Blood Moon Pack. He was a sweet, wonderful child, but he had to p