I've Dug Two Graves Novels & Stories

They couldn't, not even Garrick, who sat clutching his ruined knee, his renewed hatred for me burning behind his scowl. “You want a place here?” Tion asked, louder now. “Then take it.” He pointed to the pit. “Bury your weakness.” I didn’t hesitate. I took the shovel offered …heavy, rough, splintering in my palm and filled the grave meant for me. Stone by stone. Soil by soil. Until it vanished, the only telltale sign was a heap of soil at the top while everyone else watched in silence. When I finished, I didn’t ask what came next.

"No, we can't. A pack honors its dead, Azriel. Even the ones without fur." For the next four hours, the world shrank down to the sound of metal cutting into the frozen earth. Kieran and I dug. We didn't use our wolf strength to tear through it like wild beasts; we dug with our human hands, paying our respects with every heavy lift of dirt. We prepared a massive, unified gravesite beneath the ancient pine tree at the center of the square. One by one, we carried them. Old Maren, her face peaceful despite the violence that had taken her.

"To dig up graves." "Huh?" He seemed oddly thrilled.

I fell to my knees in front of my parents' old, overgrown graves and began to dig into the earth with my bare hands. The dirt tore at my skin, but I didn't feel the pain. My fingernails cracked and bled, mixing my own blood with the mud, but I kept digging. I dug with a feral, tireless speed, fueled by pure, unadulterated rage. With every handful of dirt I threw over my shoulder, I envisioned Mabel’s face. I envisioned snapping her neck. By the time the twin graves were deep enough, my hands were raw and caked in filth. Gently, reverently, I placed Toby and Leo side by side into the earth. I smoothed down their hair and kissed their cold foreheads.

"Because you were about to lock it in. Marry her. Make it permanent. I waited. I gave you time to see it yourself. You used every second to build your clean little life on top of his body and I just kept watching you do it." "If he's really gone," Jose started, "then why dig all this up now, why make me—" "He's not gone." Rainer's voice cracked on the last word like something breaking under too much weight. He looked away. Looked back. "I dug the grave last week. It's empty, Jose. He's been hiding. He's scared. And he hates us both for letting it get that far. For letting her get that close to finishing it."

I said as I stood up. I walked out of George’s room and grabbed a shovel from the shed outside where the tools were kept and headed to the other side of town where a small cemetery laid undisturbed. I chose a space next to a little boy’s gravestone who had died when he was three years old and started digging George’s grave.

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

Twice he crossed paths with Bain, but his friend had learned nothing, either. With less than an hour of darkness left, he headed for the cemetery that was the rumored source of the zombies. The graveyard was well-guarded, telling him the rumors were probably true. He remained hidden far back from the illuminated area and carefully surveyed the scene. He counted forty graves that had been dug up—whether the digging had occurred from above the ground or below he couldn’t tell. There were no signs of any heavy equipment having been used in the graveyard, so he leaned toward the idea that the corpses had dug themselves out. The alternative—that a large group of diggers had uncovered the graves t

I close my eyes, trying to recall the memory of how Morien counted graves, one by one, before finding the hidden weapons. My memory fails me. I have no idea which grave is the right one. So I drop to my knees in front of a random mound and start digging with my bare hands, pushing sand aside in frustration. “Way to go, Maya,” I mutter. “You forgot a shovel.” I groan and smack my forehead lightly, then scramble to my feet, pacing around desperately. I scan the ground for anything sharp enough to dig a branch, a rock, anything. I move toward the trees, bending low, feeling through the dirt and leaves.

" ...... He cried and shouted, pouring out his feelings in a way so raw and emotional that anyone watching would have been moved to tears. But was he an idiot? I was already dead, my body starting to rot, and he thought a few words could bring me back? I was not bothered by it anymore. He treated me like nothing when I was alive, and now, he wanted to act heartbroken at my grave? Whoever wanted him could have him. I was done. He stayed at my grave for half a day before heading back, making arrangements to move my remains to a burial site in Central High. He said he wanted me to be laid to rest in peace there. If I weren’t just a wandering spirit, I would have slapped him. Wasn’t I already re