Grief

“I’m glad you could come, Sherriff Jones.” Bob stepped up to the driver’s window as the cruiser rolled to a stop.

“What seems to be the problem?”

Bob straightened and nodded toward a sobbing woman lying prostrate across a freshly dug grave.

“Looks as though she’s grieving.”

“Oh, I’ve seen grieving, but she’s been there four days. I’ve approached a few times, but she just goes hysterical. I tried starting her car and getting her out of here but the battery was dead. Must’ve left her lights on.”

“Who did she lose?”

“Her husband, Charles Pinkstaff. She’d sent him to the store and bam! Car accident. She blames herself. She was always the one who went. She just can’t let him go. Murmurs over and over, ‘Take me.’”

“I’ll try to…” Before the Sherriff could finish, a beam of sunshine broke through the gloom of clouds. The light scintillating upon her frame, she clutched the dirt and with both hands full, she raised up and let out a blood-curdling wail. The pose was so odd both men’s faces strained and blinked thinking she’d break her back.

“See,” Bob stated.

The Sheriff nodded.

The light swirled around her and a gush of wind seemed to engulf her body, swirling and blowing dirt, leaves, and twigs in multiple directions. Her image blurred, her hand jabbed down into the soil. A hand met hers from below. Some kind of energy shot from her chest and just as suddenly the scene went dark.

“What the hell was that?” Bob exclaimed.

The Sheriff exited the car and walked toward the grave. A cold chill ran down him as he approached the still body clothed in a blue hand-made dress. Bob followed.

The body’s head raised and turned toward the two men.

“Charlie?” Bob stammered.


300 Words


Flash Story
Must contain the line: "the battery was dead"
Limited to 300 Words