The Grave Digger (A Short Story) Page 3

longer be heard. His screams were stolen by suffocating dirt, and all became very silent.

  As good as worm meat. Early worms get him.

  FRANK WALKED into a police station in a long coat, dirt caked his squeaking boots and under his fingernails was layers of sand. In his hand there was a note and a gun.

  “I’m here to report a murder.” He said to an officer. He dropped the note on the floor and raised the gun to his temple.

  “And a suicide.”

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