hole

hole-I

The man rolled up his flannel sleeve, knelt in the damp grass and reached into the hole. He rooted around; grimacing, he shoved the rest of his beefy forearm in until it disappeared, submerging his hand into  sludge and sticks.  Looking up and to the right, he tried to picture the terrain in which his hand was searching; he appeared to be deep in thought, complete with his tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth.  He sprawled close to the ground and ducked his head as a truck gunned its engine through the parking lot off his back yard, throwing the light from its headlights as well as dust and gravel in his direction. The man raised his head, wary of more headlights.  Had there been more, he would disband his endeavors for the night.  Not worth the risk

The man was the only one who knew this hole was here. It was in the middle of the yard under two feet of earth, then landscaping brick from a long-forgotten garden or compost heap.  Not sure if the previous owner knew about it, but he was dead and probably didn’t care.   This was the ideal spot for his…

The man stopped cold.