Skeleton Remains

The town was silent except for the small huffs from a man digging in the black earth. All around him, charred buildings smoked and used each other for support. Metal remains glinted in the fading light; anything wooden was burnt to a crisp.

Ash drifted onto the man’s bearded face as he dug into the warm earth with trembling, bleeding fingers. Smoke still curled from the rough ground. Occasionally, an ember burned his hand, making him curse. But he didn’t stop. He only dug, keeping his gaze fixed on the job.

His movements slowed, and he sat back on his heels. He gazed at the sky. A gray haze of smoke hid the sky from sight, far above the town. The town once had a name. No longer.

Joints creaking, dust falling from his clothes, he stood and stepped back from the hole he’d made. The hole was about three feet long by three feet deep. It rested at the base of a tilted, charred post that had once known the name of the town.

He turned and picked up a small, blanket-wrapped bundle. The blankets were stained and dirty; he held it like it was made of precious glass. Ash drifted from him as he gently placed the bundle into the hole. His eyes closed. Tears trickled from his squeezed eyelids and left a clean track across his dirty face.

The blankets rested against the edges of the hole, hiding the bundle in a protective cocoon.

He didn’t move for a long time. The sun crossed the sky as he knelt in front of the bundle, eyes closed, chest heaving. He sobbed, and no one heard.

When the red sun lowered on the horizon, he pushed warm dirt back onto the small bundle, hiding it from sight.

Just before the hole was completely filled, he stopped and reached into a pouch at his belt. From there, he pulled out a few seeds. With care, he placed them on the burnt dirt and finished burying the bundle.

He stood. Steps slow, eyes and nose red, he left the skeleton town. He never looked back.