Calum thrust the spade into the sod and turned it. Repeated the process to form a grave-sized hole, then stared at the stars until his sight blurred with tears.
He returned to his digging, working methodically – thrust, lever, lift, throw. A rhythm at a steady tempo, stopping only to wipe the sweat from his brow.
Once the edge reached his waist he clambered out and stretched.
The tears started again as he rolled the body in. He really didn’t want to kill her. She shouldn’t provoked him. Shouldn’t have …
He shovelled the soil back, the rhythm sapping his regret.
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.
1 comment:
Oh, this one'd really atmospheric, Rob! I like the focus on what the killer might be thinking right after the deed. And now I wonder who she was and what she did to provoke Calum... Well done
Post a Comment