Rain is falling harder now. Dirt turning to mud. The night sky sits black, storm clouds hiding the moon. The hole is almost dug. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he throws the shovel next to the grave. The summer night is warm but brings him chills. His breathing heavier and his heart races. Nerves overtake him as he climbs into the grave. He takes a deep breathe, his nerves calming. He reaches up, grabbing the rope in his trembling hands. Excitement overcomes him. He pulls the rope. Laying there smiling, dirt covers him from head to toe.
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