My burial

Thunder crashed in the distance, and I glanced briefly at the sky before returning to my task. Dark clouds, drooping as low as a pregnant cow's belly, hung overhead, threating to release a torrent of rain at an time. Lightning flickered menacingly within the clouds, as if impatient to unleash it's fury on the sun-baked earth. The wind carressed my sweaty ckeek, carrying the message of rain to my nostrils.

Darn it, I'll have to hurry,I thought, struggling with the heavy shovel. I looked at the slendar box near my feet, and felt some of my resolve return. The contents of the box was hideous, and I intended to bury it deep within the dark musty confines of the earth, never to be troubled by it again. As my muscles and joints groaned in protest, I wished for the hundredth time I had been blessed with muscles like "Rosie the Rivoter."

"All. . .most. . .done." I grunted, tossing the last shoveful of dirt aside. Wiping my hands on my grundgy shorts, I knelt in the dirt, picked up the box and dropped it into the hole I had labored over. Nature couldn't wait until I was finished, and tiny raindrops fell swiftly, stinging my face like thousands of knitting needles. I sighed as I watched the pile of dirt beside hole begin to resemble a mound of oozing melted chocolate. This would definately make my task harder. "Oh well, no rest for the weary," I said, shoveling a small mound of damp earth into the hole; at that moment, my small hole seemed like a gaping abyss to me.

Rain saturated my hair and ran in rivlets down my face, stinging my eyes; still, I shoveled on like a woman possessed. I had to rid myself of the "albatoss" hanging around my neck for as long as I could remember. In a few minutes the hole was filled. "Done and done," I said happily, give the mound of earth a final pat with the shovel. I whirled around and came fact to face with John. "Wh-what are you doing here?" I asked, alarmed. I was so intent on my task I didn't hear the crunch of wheels in the drive when John arrived.

"Watching you. What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

"Burying something."

"That's obvious. Where are the kids?"

Judging from the oh-my-gosh-what-has-she-done look on his face, I knew I had better put John's mind at ease.

"They're in the house watching cartoons."

"Oh. Whatcha burying?"

"Me to know and you to find out," I said mischievously as we walked to the house. It drove John crazy the rest of the night.

"You're not doing some voodoo curse, are you?" he asked a few hours later as we were watching a movie. I went ahead and put him out of his misery; I knew he would wart me to death until I told him.

And now, my dear friends , I'll tell you.

The outside of the box is plain, devoid of any markings. Open the box and you find nothing. . .not in the physical sense at least. You see, I took everything that has haunted me and put it in the box, all my distrust, self-doubt, and grudges, and buuried them deep both in the physical and emotional sense.