A Single Grave

There is a single grave beyond the field on a farm.  Its tombstone is chipped and weathered, and it is tilted to one side from years of erosion.  Old dried leaves and broken twigs litter the base.  At one time there had been a name carved into the stone, but time has worn it away.

In front of the marker is freshly churned dirt and torn out grass.  The grave has been opened.  The area reeks of mold and decay.

The grave’s occupant is gone.

From the farmhouse comes a shrill scream.

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