100 words: grave
Tuesday, March 25, 2025
The sexton had seen this before. A year after the funeral, a thin strip of pale dead yellow grass outlined the shape of a coffin in the burial ground, like it had been crushed by the dark. The sexton had known the occupant of the coffin and he was happier now she was in the earth instead of on it. But the outline worried him. He imagined malignant goo seeping up from crack of the coffin lid. He closed his eyes and prayed it was nature’s goodness fleeing the evil inside the coffin, not her evil returning to wreak revenge.