Extinguished Light
He broke into a piece of the earth with his shovel. The burial, he had decided, would take place in front of the farm. The surrounding soil was fertile enough, so the dig wouldn’t be too taxing, physically speaking. Halfway through, the father appeared to lose control of his basic motor skills. He dropped the shovel and immediately fell to his knees and began to dry-heave. The heaving gave way to a sudden and hostile appearance of vomit that expelled out of his mouth with a force that could only be described as audacious.
The men rushed toward the open door. “Not so fast, fuck-os,” she said. Annie was a small woman, no more than five-foot-three with most of her weight in her disproportionate breasts, of which she often complained gave her backaches.