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January 5, 2006

Jim: Just Another Working Stiff

The gibbous moon hangs swollen and leprous in the midnight sky while thick tendrils of ground fog flow around gnarled, leafless trees and scattered gravestones. I trudge ahead, drawing the tatters of my ill-fitting coat tighter against the ancient cemetery’s unearthly chill.

Just then, my foot slams into a pile of loose dirt and I tumble into a dark pit filled with the smells of rich loam and rotting flesh.

Somebody else had dug up the grave!

I shrug. “Now Igor won’t need the shovel,” I mumble as I collect the body parts my Master needs for his latest experiment.

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Comments

What lovely imagery.

Posted by: kasac at January 5, 2006 10:39 AM · Permalink

Thanks! I was trying to make it 'a little over the top' so the twist would work.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at January 5, 2006 12:59 PM · Permalink