Matt Hayte

Take It Or Leave It

The cold rain beaded on the back of his neck as the grave digger thrust his shovel once more into the wet earth. Steam rose from him in tiny tendrils, circling towards the inky black and starless sky. Grave digging was hard work. His body heat was the only thing protecting him from the icy chill that surrounded him. A thick shovelful of sludge flew over his shoulder to join the rest just outside of the hole, meeting with a loud smack before merging down and becoming one with the puddle that had become everything.