The January frost clawed at her skin, but she refused to cry. Tears in below-freezing temperatures meant that her eyes would seal and she’d have no idea of where to dig.
A full moon hung in the midnight sky like a beacon, its rays shining down, casting its glow upon her, highlighting the protrusion of vertebrae along her spine.
Her feet, swallowed by snow, burned as if on fire, though she felt nothing. Across the graveyard, perched upon a crumbling tombstone, he watched, cloaked in smoke, laughter curling from his lips.
How she longed to hit him, beat him around the head with the shovel, but her strength waned - she welcomed the end, to lie down in her self-dug grave, sinking into the hollow she carved from the frozen earth, curling into its embrace as though it were always meant for her. Finally at peace.
The cops’ shovels sunk into the soil of the shallow grave I dug. They glanced at me every so often with disdain in their eyes - they wanted me dead and I didn’t blame them. handcuffs bit into my wrists, and shackles cut into my ankles. Sweat gushed down my face as I watched the police unearth my handiwork. A torrent of bile erupted from a baby-faced cop. I took a big breath of the corpse-laced airwaves of nostalgia rippled through me. I couldn’t help but smile. I knew something they didn’t. If only those fools knew about the other graves.
The man hit her so many times, there were bruises on top of bruises, scars on scars. Her friends no longer spoke to her because she said she “could not leave him, he needs me too much. Love never quits.”
She couldn’t leave her man, and she couldn’t stay gone.
Her therapist said she’s like the rest of them, independent, strong, and achieving with one fatal challenge… low self esteem. She doesn’t know what she truly deserves.
And? when they finally got her to go, her brother said “I’ve got a shovel and a gun, ain’t nobody gonna miss him”
The snow fell with wind drifts between the rock wall and spruce tree. He grabbed the snow shovel and ran next door. Mrs. Hudson paid well. She had a short driveway but there’s a drift five feet deep. She opened the door in her black silk bathrobe slightly opened and promised him good money for clearing snow. Every shovelful blew back in his face. But hours of persistence won the day. A cash reward and bowl of hot tempting tomato soup with crackers on it he side.
Anytime anyone says "shovel", the below line comes to mind. I had to start here. Thanks again for the prompt!
"You should never hit your mother with a shovel, it'll leave a dull impression on her mind". That was the line he liked best from 'Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid'. It was one of his favourites growing up; he loved the cowboys, the train robberies, the shootouts.
It was a little too final, the last time there was anything involving his mother and a shovel. But he glowed inside as the familiar title buzzed on-screen that December. He knew he was about to pass on something valuable. The tradition was yet to leave a dull impression on him.
It only took about ten minutes to dig up what was buried next to the house where the altercation came from inside the house where two brothers were arguing and one of them tried to talk the other out of something until violence broke out and it took less than 5 minutes for the body to be disposed.
There's some fairly unbelievable real life stories out there, from crazy childhood friends stories to eyes met across a crowded room.
The world is a very big place, and while many people focus on the worst these days and the real difficulties there is in finding a partner in this unromantic age under the shadow of overflowing poisoned wells, people still get together in ways both mundane and unbelievable.
Aww this is a very sweet piece. I think you're a natural when it comes to romance Miguel.
Aw, thank you Ika! I don't know about that haha. I like dark stuff to much, but who knows, maybe I'll turn into a romance writer down the line!
Shovel
The January frost clawed at her skin, but she refused to cry. Tears in below-freezing temperatures meant that her eyes would seal and she’d have no idea of where to dig.
A full moon hung in the midnight sky like a beacon, its rays shining down, casting its glow upon her, highlighting the protrusion of vertebrae along her spine.
Her feet, swallowed by snow, burned as if on fire, though she felt nothing. Across the graveyard, perched upon a crumbling tombstone, he watched, cloaked in smoke, laughter curling from his lips.
How she longed to hit him, beat him around the head with the shovel, but her strength waned - she welcomed the end, to lie down in her self-dug grave, sinking into the hollow she carved from the frozen earth, curling into its embrace as though it were always meant for her. Finally at peace.
Miguel! This is the best romance story ever. Well done.
Thank you EJ! Yeah I like this one a lot :)
Prompt: Shovel
ICY VENGEANCE
The snow fell hard. It covered the body fast.
Jake watched from his car, gripping the wheel tight. The man owed him money. Too much money.
Jake hated winter. It made bodies harder to hide. But business was business.
He wiped his brow, though the car was cold.
His phone buzzed. Another job. No rest for him.
He threw the shovel in the trunk.
As he drove off, the wind howled.
The season was changing. In his world, it was always cold. Always dangerous.
Jake lit a cigarette. He had work to do.
PROMPT: SHOVEL
THE TREASURE
This was the place.
After years of battling to decipher his personal diaries, we’d finally found it.
The secluded beach on a small island in The Bahamas, where Captain Blackheart had buried his most valuable treasure.
The spot we needed was just ten paces away from a rock formation he’d helpfully described.
There, we took out our shovels and frantically started digging.
We smiled excitedly at each other as we hit something solid.
A wooden chest.
We cracked it open.
And our hearts immediately sank.
We’d discovered his most valuable treasure.
But it was a pile of tiny parrot bones… 😎
He drove the shovel into the ground once more and heard the ‘THUNK’ of the metal hitting a hard object.
Frantically, he dug the relic out of soft dirt, dusting it off with his hand.
It was a mermaid bone. The only cure for his raging ailment.
He would boil it. Make it into a soup and—
“Give me my bone.”
A woman stood before him wearing rags that dripped with the ocean’s tears, her eyes as vacant as a starless night.
She smiled. “Give me my bone and I will heal you.”
But just like humans, spirits sometimes lie.
“Graves”
The cops’ shovels sunk into the soil of the shallow grave I dug. They glanced at me every so often with disdain in their eyes - they wanted me dead and I didn’t blame them. handcuffs bit into my wrists, and shackles cut into my ankles. Sweat gushed down my face as I watched the police unearth my handiwork. A torrent of bile erupted from a baby-faced cop. I took a big breath of the corpse-laced airwaves of nostalgia rippled through me. I couldn’t help but smile. I knew something they didn’t. If only those fools knew about the other graves.
100 mg Shovel
The man hit her so many times, there were bruises on top of bruises, scars on scars. Her friends no longer spoke to her because she said she “could not leave him, he needs me too much. Love never quits.”
She couldn’t leave her man, and she couldn’t stay gone.
Her therapist said she’s like the rest of them, independent, strong, and achieving with one fatal challenge… low self esteem. She doesn’t know what she truly deserves.
And? when they finally got her to go, her brother said “I’ve got a shovel and a gun, ain’t nobody gonna miss him”
(Another true story)
Her brother was right tho
The snow fell with wind drifts between the rock wall and spruce tree. He grabbed the snow shovel and ran next door. Mrs. Hudson paid well. She had a short driveway but there’s a drift five feet deep. She opened the door in her black silk bathrobe slightly opened and promised him good money for clearing snow. Every shovelful blew back in his face. But hours of persistence won the day. A cash reward and bowl of hot tempting tomato soup with crackers on it he side.
Anytime anyone says "shovel", the below line comes to mind. I had to start here. Thanks again for the prompt!
"You should never hit your mother with a shovel, it'll leave a dull impression on her mind". That was the line he liked best from 'Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid'. It was one of his favourites growing up; he loved the cowboys, the train robberies, the shootouts.
It was a little too final, the last time there was anything involving his mother and a shovel. But he glowed inside as the familiar title buzzed on-screen that December. He knew he was about to pass on something valuable. The tradition was yet to leave a dull impression on him.
That's a fantastic piece of writing, Miguel! It's a beautiful idea and a wonderful ending, executed perfectly... 😎
Thank you Chris!
Disposing his Brother 100 mg of microfiction
It only took about ten minutes to dig up what was buried next to the house where the altercation came from inside the house where two brothers were arguing and one of them tried to talk the other out of something until violence broke out and it took less than 5 minutes for the body to be disposed.
The Shovel 100mg of microfiction
I'd only been " Family" two weeks when the call came down for a hit. The job didn't bother me. Two taps ... back of the head. Boom. Fageddaboutit.
So Nardini says "We gotta take this one to 'the Shovel'. Put him in the trunk."
"The fuck for?" I says "We're in the desert already."
"Boss got a deal with the Shovel. That's all you gotta know."
So we drives to the Shovel's joint and there he is, the fattest fuck you ever saw, sat down for dinner with a fork and spoon like a goddam spade.
Some...you remember.
That was sooo sweet!!
Glad you liked it!
Such a sweet story 🥹
What a power move!
Imagine if that was real tho. That would be such a baller proposal haha.
There's some fairly unbelievable real life stories out there, from crazy childhood friends stories to eyes met across a crowded room.
The world is a very big place, and while many people focus on the worst these days and the real difficulties there is in finding a partner in this unromantic age under the shadow of overflowing poisoned wells, people still get together in ways both mundane and unbelievable.