Grave Digger

He had worked as a grave digger for the town cemetery for years. But today he was losing his job to technology. There used to be many nobodies, prisoners who were buried in the cemetery. Now everyone was sent to the electric crematorium. Land was too expensive now to be wasted on the dead.

The local parish took pity on him and gave a reference and an address to seek a job. It was a five hour journey by train to this place. The walk uphill was tiring. At the top of the hill was a big villa isolated from the village by a thick cover of trees. He walked on the trail made by horse hooves and reached the big iron gates which were open. He paused for a while to catch a breath and then started walking towards building. This place was a mausoleum. Both sides of the path were covered with graves. Different kinds of graves – cobbled graves, marble graves, stony graves, some were even covered with fresh dew kissed grass. “Must be the recent ones” he thought. This place was different than the one he had worked all his life. In spite of so many dead around, it seemed lively. It had colour, it had greenery. He reached the door.  Even before he could reach out to the doorknocker, the huge wooden door opened and man in a white tuxedo greeted him. “Ah, you have finally arrived. I am so glad.”

There was something pleasantly weird about this man. The man neither stepped out of the house nor did he ask the grave digger in.

“Could you please dig a grave by tonight? I killed my grave digger by mistake.”

John saw the red in his eyes gleam as the man handed him the shovel.

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