Dirt

Intriguing story by Sean Patrick Whiteley reblogged from seanpatrickwhiteley.wordpress.com

seanpatrickwhiteley

graveyard-wc1104w

Mrs. Tooms was in her garden, tending to her winter flowers, when inside the house, the phone rang. She creaked and cracked as she stood, her bones older than she remembered. She stumbled into her home, trailing dirt through her kitchen and foyer, and yanked the phone from its cradle.

‘Hello, hello,’ she chirped, breathing heavily from her rushing.

‘Mrs. Tooms?’ asked a raspy monotone.

‘Yes, who’s this?’

‘You may not remember me. It’s been over fifteen years. My name is Benjamin Sidley. I’m head caretaker down at Pine Banks Cemetery.’

‘I don’t,’ answered Mrs. Tooms. ‘Remember you, that is.’

‘Well, that’s of no matter.’

‘Why are you calling?’ Mrs. Tooms was eager to return to her flowers.

‘Unfortunately, my reason for calling is to deliver some bad news.’

Mrs. Tooms waited.

‘It is with a heavy heart that I tell you that your husband’s grave has been desecrated…’

Mrs…

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2 thoughts on “Dirt

  1. One of my sons wants to be buried (if ever) with a land-line phone. As for me, I was looking at someone cooking recently and wished my dad could be cooking again in front of my eyes. His last living sister told me it would hit me at odd times.
    She was right.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you for coming by, Marleen! I must say I agree with your son, my worst possible situation would be finding myself in a coffin under ground. Cremation is the thing for me, I think;)

      Like

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