A cry from a song bird as it’s wings get eclipsed by a red hawk,
Disaster is abound as the feeling washes the soul like soap cleanses the body,
Knives are quick, sharp, fast, but sorrow is slow,
It seeps under skin, paralyzing oneself into a box,
The flight of lions has no desire to prove what is right, or wrong,
Just like sorrow has no desire to prove a battle against happiness.
I remember that day as if it was a vibrant nightmare. A stench of wet mud, leaves, animals, and scurrying worms met my nose. Aaron had his knuckles clenched around a dark rusted rachet. His emerald eyes twinkled from small flickers of moonlight. Drips of sweat slid down his face. Cold rushes of brisk fall air passed between my fingers.
It wasn’t supposed to go down like. A corpse rotting away from slight crawlers of the night covered dead eyes were an eyesore in such a vibrant place. Trees swayed as if trying to tease the sky’s massive endlessness, and creatures flurried about between reds, browns, and dull greens making a rather lively scene before my eyes. A twinkling shovel rested beside a thick brown oak tree. I tried to wipe away the cumbersome crystalline drops , but they felt like a faucet that was stuck on high blast.
Daniel was a good kid. A perfect ten on any girl’s list, and my number one bro. His creamy coffee like skin accentuated his lanky tall body with dazzling sapphire eyes like the winter sky could freeze a woman in her tracks. Heck, he froze me on several occasions.
Clang! I darted my eyes over to where Aaron was standing. The ratchet was now laying on the ground. His arms began the nightly work of lifting rocks, and tossing mud around as if the ground was the opposing football team.
“ Hey, love, can you look for a nice stick, and rock to help for the grave?” His cold stare was like looking at ice, and hoping it would melt.
“ I guess so.” I could only use the flashlight that he had grabbed from the car earlier because my phone was sinking at the bottom of the ocean. The faint light from the silver of the moon, and faded yellow mixed in a way that made it more difficult to find a decent rock.My skin was convulsively shivering from the air. I could feel stones under my fingertips, but none large enough for a memorial stone.
After hopelessly scuffling around the ground, cringing every time I felt a tiny furry creature or smooth slimy worm, I discovered a rock that was bigger than the palm of my hand and was heavier than a glass cup. Next to the rock, there was a longer, sturdier stick that could act as a tiny memorial holding stand.
" Love, you finally found a decent rock." My mind for a split second thought of slamming the rock into the back of Aaron's skull in retribution for his stupidity, but I withheld the urge.
"Yes." He continued to dig after that in silence as the hole got deeper, and deeper like the distance between the pacific ocean, and the Atlantic ocean. It was our little secret...unless one unlucky camper came upon this area. I wiped my hands on my torn jeans trying to distract my brain from the stench of rotting flesh, and decaying bones.