Novel & Cerita I've Dug Two Graves

After all the efforts I put into saving her— after all the years she endured pain— she was finally gone. I watched the shovels picking up soil, going down to the hold, and then coming up again empty. Five times. Twenty times. Thirty-one times. I watched it until what was a mountain of soil became flat ground again. A man stomped his foot on the closed hole— the closed grave of my and beamed slyly. "Now that my sweet sweet Valentina's obtained her relief, it's time to relieve ourselves!" I trailed my eyes to Stanley Archibald's face from my mom's closed grave.

They are making this whole thing like a human funeral or that of one of their own and it pleases me. This reminds me of the time back in the forest when one of my younger brothers died, I dug a shallow grave and buried him. I was only twelve when he died and knew nothing of burial. I had only been to my mother’s funeral and even then, I never saw the whole just the coffin she was in and that was it. When we were done, we left the spot; the warriors went for patrol while we went to the pack house in my office.

I slapped him again, "is for Lydia." He stumbled back, a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. "There is nothing left between us, Ethan. Nothing but a graveyard," my voice was flat, final. "And you are the one holding the shovel. You dug the graves for our pup with your own two hands." "I can make it up to you..." he choked out. "Make it up?" I sneered. "How? Are you going to bring the dead back to life?" "We still have a chance..." he said, desperate. "We're fated mates..."

“Enlighten me.” “It gets buried.” She straightened, smoothed her white dress, and walked out without looking back. The door clicked shut. He buries them. The words echoed in the silence. A cold sweat slid down my spine. My hand rose to my throat as the confidence I’d worn like armor began to crack. I crawled out of my grave once. If Mark ever finds out who I really am— this time, there wouldn't be a second resurrection.

Even with a few people working together, they still couldn't pull Anthony away from me. "He seems to really like you." Eddie sniffled, his voice hoarse as he spoke to me. A mess of feelings crashed through me. I felt like something was lodged in my throat; I could barely breathe. In the end, I let out a bitter laugh. "Let's hope so." … A few days later, Anthony was done handling all the arrangements after my death. But instead of putting my ashes in a grave somewhere, he brought them back to the villa. With the kind of money he had, buying a plot was nothing. I had no idea why he chose to do this.

I understood Becky, “Let her come in, appoint her to the kitchen, I want to know what she is up to and I want to make her work easier and faster.” Becky stared at me with surprise, “The kitchen? That is like digging your own grave.” I scoffed lightly, “When I started this journey, I dug three graves, one for Karisa, one for Casper, and the last one for me, all of us would fall into it and my parents-in-law and my parents would be the ones to cover up that grave.” “Mrs Elvira!” Becky's eyes widened with surprise, “Is Sir aware of your plan?”

My heart began to beat faster as I walked past the sea of graves I usually hate. I reached the sharp corner of the direction leading to my father’s grave. My heart skipped a bit as I locked eyes on my father’s grave. The gravedigger was seated on it with his legs spread wide apart in the air. He was naked. Completely naked. His mouth fell open as he locked his eyes with mine. I swallowed hard before my eyes trailed below. His index finger was sliding in and out of his pinkish goddamn hole. My cock throbbed.

From the helicopter, I watched Alfred race to the crash site, clutching the fallen license plate, crying out, "Helen, Ruby..." It did not take long for the internet to explode with news of Ruby and I dying in that fiery wreck. I held my sleeping Ruby tight, put away my phone, and whispered, "This is it, Alfred. We're done for good." Alfred was haunted, thinking it was all some nightmare. He would slap himself, pinch his skin, and even jab himself with a knife, desperate to snap out of it. However, the pain, sharp and undeniable, kept telling him the brutal truth.

"If.... If I'm ever going to have a baby again, I wish to have you again. That could... That could really make me feel so happy." I didn't even see what he or she looked like. It was still very much premature. I turned on the candle I brought with me, singing 'Happy Birthday' song to myself before turning off the candle. It was when I stood up, I noticed a dying flower by the side of the tombstone. I made a mental note to ask the old man who took care of the cemetery about it. A sharp pain grazed my stomach, making me halt. My hand curled into a fist. After I had regained consciousness, I moved my legs carefully. When I was sure enough that I wasn't feeling any pain again, I walked back to t