After weeks of searching, I’d finally found a decent job—at a graveyard. But after only a few hours of work on my first day, Adam, my boss, insisted I come with him outside. My buddies told me this wasn’t good, but hey, what am I supposed to do? Tell him, “No,” and get fired?
Adam led me into the heart of the graveyard, an ocean of dead yellow grass peppered with black and gray headstones. When we reached the center of the property, Adam stopped, and handed me a rusty shovel. “Dig, boy.”
“For what?” I retorted. “Jack Sparrow’s pot o’ gold?”
“You heard me–dig. And don’t stop ‘til I tell you.”
With that, he walked away.
I sighed, and stabbed the ground with the shovel. The soil was strangely soft. I quickly piled it into a dry heap, nearly suffocating on the dust cloud that enveloped me with every scoop of dirt.
Hours passed. Adam never told me to stop. Heck, I never saw him again that day. The hole deepened, and I slowly descended into it. I didn’t notice how far down I was until I stopped briefly to wipe the sweat from my forehead. The ground was eye-level with me. I cursed my dumb luck, and threw another shovel-full of dirt over my head.
When the ground was a foot over my head, I heard several gruff voices talking about things I don’t care to repeat. After a few minutes, there was a loud thud, like something had been stabbed into the ground.
“What’s going on?” I called.
“Just keep digging, just keep digging,” said one of the voices, sarcastically. I heard his friends laugh and give him high-fives. Then they left.
I kept digging.
Darkness was descending. I’d lost track of time. Where’s Adam? How long do I have to keep digging? I could hardly see above me. Was this some kind of cruel joke? My veins burned, my muscles screamed in pain.
I kept digging.
“Hey!” a voice from above suddenly called.
Sighing, I said, “Is that you, Adam?”
“No,” he said, and quickly moved on. “Do you realize what you’re doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“You must stop now!”
