Tears sully the layer of grime on my face. Droplets of rage wake me from the rest of the mentally deceased. I return to coherency in a cluttered graveyard. My filmy white eyes stare up into a living inferno.
Mild confusion etches my features.
Why have you roused me? The thought bounces around my echo chamber mind.
I still clutch my tiny ember, even in forsaken undeath. Knuckles white to the bone. I thought my murdering had bought and paid for happiness.
She stands over me with a sharpened spade. Vacillation wars openly on her tear-streaked face. I cradle my scorpion tail and reach for her digging tool of consonance with one hand.
"It's ok", I whisper to her gently. "You can do anything you need to."
With the tips of my fingers, I guide her first shovelful of dirt into my lap. The first of an avalanche.
Scoop. Tip. Bury. Repeat.
I aid in humming silence, the burial of her memories.
11:27 p.m. - 2014-10-28
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