Grave Things (short story)

“Has it been so long since we spoke?” Jeb asked. “I can still feel your hand on my cheek, a mark which will never fade in my mind. If you’re happier now then you only have to say so.”

“Nothing?” Jeb prompted. “Alright, I understand. Some things better left unsaid. The word unspoken more powerful than a scream or a curse. You always were poetic, where are your fancy words now? Nothing to say for yourself? I’d expected as much.”

Jeb swallowed and wiped a hand across his pale brow. It was hot and his skin felt clammy to the touch. The woman he had loved gazed up at him, a serene expression on her face. He tossed another shovel of dirt into the shallow grave.

 

Read another crime short story here or here.

You can find a great parody based on this short story on John H. Loase’s blog.

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