I've Dug Two Graves Novels & Stories

I coughed, "You wouldn't- happen to have a shovel with you, do you?" "I do- it's around here, somewhere..." "Alright, Maurice, mark the spot so you don't forget, I need you to dig me out," "Trust me, lady, Your grave is unique, it's not hard to miss," What did he mean? "Can you please elaborate on that," "Whoever buried you out here was in a rush, there is no headstone." I hear his heartbeat become faint, Why would need a headstone? I am not dead, someone is just playing a sick game with me.

My clothes are uncomfortably stuck to me, my hair matted to my face. After four graves I come across the number 6. Tabitha. The shadowy figure is nowhere to be seen, but then again...she could be right next to me and I just can’t make her out from the rain streaming down my face, running into my eyes. With one deep breath I drop onto my knees and start to claw at the dirt. Several times I pause, grossed out or it’s common sense taking over my limbs, but I push through and dig. Dig. Dig. Dig.

I grabbed a thick stick from the ground and started to dig. My hands were reddish and my nails were stained with dirt, but I kept digging. I pushed the fox into the shallow hole and covered it with earth. I used the stick to pat the dirt down, making a small mound. I sat there in the dirt for hours, staring at that tiny grave. I wished I could bury my own pain—and every other thing—just as easily. But I knew I couldn't. I knew that the only thing that would stop the burning in my chest was finding Dilan.

* * * Alessio The process of digging a deep hole right in the middle of the forest is long and gruesome, especially with no tools whatsoever, but I still do my best even when the sun begins to bore down on me and burn my skin. I do it without help. Lazaro tries to offer but I just say that I can do it and force him to go away. He and Chiara just sit by the tree, talking maybe, even though I couldn’t be sure. I just dig the hole by hand with a flat rock, my hands raw from the scratches and my heart heavy with seeing my best friend at the side of the pit, ready to be brought in and forever buried under the earth. I will never forget the things he has done, how he was as a person, what he did f

I took a deep breath in and out and then walked out of the car, closing the door behind me. I stared at their graves, I think I'm more stronger now, because I am no longer filled with grief like how I was last time I came. I walked slowly to their graves with a bouquet of flowers in my hand. I turned around, Diego was standing beside me, some feets away, right next to his car with his men surrounding him. I turned back to their graves and squatted.

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.

I used the shovel to remove some moss and still couldn’t make up the owner of this tomb. Raverine called me and I gave up with this guessing game of the dead’s name. Maybe these people have long been erased from everyone’s memories so that even their names are forbidden to be known. I walked back to the road sign and began digging. Raverine insisted he take the task instead but he has done a lot which kept me bored throughout this journey. Thud, swoosh, thud, swoosh, clank… clank. I felt like a treasure hunter finally finding gold.

The fire that had been roaring over the mansion started to hiss and die down, the downpour acting as a cold, indifferent blanket over the ruins of my life. I eventually stood up, moving like a puppet on strings. I found a shovel in the gardening shed near the edge of the estate and walked to the center of the garden, the place where my mother used to sit in the sun. I began to dig. Every time the blade hit the mud, a sob escaped my chest. The more I dug, the harder I cried, the dirt staining my hands and clothes until I was as much a part of the earth as they were about to be.

The moon began to hide. Burying a man is not just digging a hole. It’s admitting that he existed. And you’re done with it. The sound of the shovel cutting through the earth was dry and rough. Each blow was accompanied by a memory that I did not want to have. The moment he fell, the empty gaze, the silence. The earth smelled strong, moist, almost alive. I threw it sideways one, two, three times, until the hole seemed deep enough. But it never was. Nothing would be enough.

I noticed that for a few minutes, no one was behind me or ahead of me and I was close to some deserted vegetation. I guess I found a very good spot. I parked by the road and took out the shovel I went a few meters in and got to digging. I was very lucky that the ground was soft so in no time I was done. I carried his body and laid him in his grave. May the good lord be with him. I covered him up and it was mission accomplished. I stood there and stared at the grave for a while, I never intended for things to get to this point but he caused this for himself I had no choice.