Andy Purday

The Heart-Shaped Locket

She scrambled in the sodden soil for the heart-shaped locket, her only hope of escaping this wretched torment. The heavy weight pinned her body to the ground, every breath forced, every breath broken and pained. She reached out further, the chain of the locket nearly in reach, the shining silver so close… Her hand pulled back before it met its mark. She was determined. The struggle continued, the bog now lively with the torrent raining down from above; only making it more difficult to move as the slippery mud convulsed and churned around her with every thrust forward, her hand carving out a slim trench toward the glowing trinket, though the light dimmed as each slosh of congealed earth layered the necklace. Each gasp against the drowning dirt became impossible, the unwanted pressure building against her now frail body, intolerable, unbearable. She fought on. Her nails better utilised as claws, drawing blood with every attempted scratch and stab, making a sanguine sludge, to no avail. As the seconds turned to minutes then into what felt like hours, the dark coagulant muck marred her pale skin, the oozing scum hiding the dainty object that had been the focus of her efforts had been lost beneath the vile ordure.