I've Dug Two Graves Novels & Stories

I pointed at something that looked like a freshly dug grave. Cade and I exchanged a look, both feeling a sense of dread. I approached the grave, my heart pounding in my chest. I felt my hands shake as I jumped into the hole, desperate to see what was hidden beneath the dirt. To my surprise, I found gold. Lots of it. My eyes widened as I gazed at the glittering treasures before me. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I felt Cade's hand on my shoulder, a smile spreading across his face as he too took in the sight.

My Mackenzie. I had dug the grave myself. It felt like the only thing I could do for her now. The earth had been stubborn, as if the forest itself didn’t want to accept her. My hands were still dirty from the task, the skiYn raw and blistered, but I didn’t care. She was gone, and none of it mattered anymore.

Two years later Aurora’s POV The air smelled faintly of rain, though the clouds above looked tired rather than heavy. I stood before the grave, reading the name carved into the stone for what felt like the thousandth time. Beloved Father. Harold Vale This was the second time he was dying.. I didn’t know whether to cry or simply stare. After two years, I still hadn’t figured out which hurt more—tears that refused to stop or silence that refused to speak. My hands hung at my sides, still, numb, like the world around me had gone dull.

I had been unable to speak or move, so there wasn’t anything I could do besides watch him. I remembered all of that, but now I was somewhere else. I was no longer tied up. I was standing in the ruins of a village that was still smoldering. At my feet were two large mounds of dirt. I knew that they were my parents' graves. I had dug them myself, although that was a long time ago. At least, it felt like it was. The dirt looked fresh and when I looked down at myself, there was mud on my hands and my clothes.

I walked through, ignoring the broken frames, the crumbling plaster, the ghosts of who we were. Straight to the back. Toward what used to be a garden. I hadn’t been here since that night. The night I killed her. The night I buried London. The garden was gone. Weeds had taken over the soil. The trellises were broken, and the fountain was dry, cracked open like a corpse left to decay. But I knew the spot. Muscle memory guided me there. And what I saw stopped me cold. The grave— London’s grave—had been dug up.

losing my soul for some skin. My hands worked through the night, covering my arms in blood. And when I was finished, I rolled the skins up, looking at the bare musculature of the two young men. Then, I started to do as I promised, to bury them. I dug a grave so deep that it would take even more effort to dig up again, and put the young men in. With exhaustion, I started to cover the young men back, and just before sunrise, I had fully buried them.

" So I should leave it for you to bury?I'll do whatever I want with the body, I do not give a bloody hell about consecrating the body . I yelled . I dragged the body to the back of the house, dug up a grave with the shovel I found inside Natasha house, i had a really difficult time digging the grave as I wasn't used to this kind of things, it was however a matter of urgency, it is actually better I bury it without consecrating instead of leaving the body for Natasha to commit different kind of atrocities with it . Before dusk I was done with burying my body, my body was so filled with dirt, I looked really tartared, I just wanted to go home and freshen up .

After freezing the bank account, Samuel didn't receive my plea for help but instead got news from the private investigator. The investigator sent him several pieces of information, including screenshots of local news articles. One of the headlines read: "Shocking! Mother and son were found dead in their home days after their passing. Neighbors discovered their dead bodies." The article wasn't very long. While it didn't specify the village, it mentioned the name of the town where the village was located. The accompanying photo was of the small farmhouse where I had lived.

I knelt before the graves and dropped the flowers on the ground, my fingers tracing the letters carved into the cold, unforgiving stone, my fingers trembling with emotion. "Mum... Dad..." my voice trembled, choked with tears as I struggled to find the words to express the anguish that consumed me. "Mum...Dad…" I whispered, my voice barely more than a broken sob. "I miss you so much." The silence that greeted me was deafening, broken only by the soft rustle of the leaves and the mournful howl of the wind.

Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “I need your help. Are you sure you’re okay?” “Yes.” She replied then, “What do you need me to do?” For the next one hour, the two of them spent digging up two graves for the men to rest in. Although it was in the middle of nowhere, Jamie didn’t want to risk anyone tracing his path and eventually finding their dead bodies. After they both finished the task, the surrounding fell into an eerie silence. Apart from the crackling of dried leaves under their feet, nothing else could be heard even in their immediate vicinity.