The Deep Prick

~Chapter 5~

 
 
                                                                  
 
 
     An intimate display of road kill got covered over by a white bed sheet. She, in her usual overalls, with her solar system freckles on her right cheek; stood over the road kill, mournful and looking at the sheet covering the dead.

    The day clutched dark clouds, that would trick the mind into thinking it was late evening. Grace was now a few hundred yards away from her apple orchard, digging a large hole in the dirt. She wiped the sweat from her brow, leaving dirt behind on her forehead. Her hands were encased in soil. Her white lace scarf that she wore around her shoulders like a shawl, was starting to look almost coffee stained. Wind picked up as if a storm was brewing. She looked to the darkening sky, noticing not a bird in sight. She looked at a couple of spotted deer a few feet in front of her, as they suddenly darted away. Then she turned to look behind her and saw the sudden appearance of Frances, staring, only just a few feet away from her.

     “What are you doing?” Frances asked concerned.

    “Oh... what are you... uh... I’m burying road kill,” she said. She was so clearly caught off guard.

    “Why?” he asked, not hiding his confusion by the way his eyebrows pinched together with a soft eye squint.

    She replied with a slight attitude, “do I have to explain my art to you?”

 “No, sorry… I need to talk to you.”
 She began to dig another hole, completely unresponsive to Frances. Frances then asked again, “can I talk to you?”

    She continued to dig, barely looking his direction, “go ahead.”

    “Do you want to look at me?” Frances asked.

    “Not really?” she replied and kept digging.

     Frances spoke with hesitancy, “okay well, I can’t see you anymore.”

     She replied with purpose, “and why’s that”

    Frances replied, still very cautious, “I’m seeing someone else.”

    “You mean you’ve cheated on someone else with me, and you have to break it off with me, or she’ll find out?” Grace replied not totally questioning but explaining. She continued to shovel up the dirt, each time a little bit more vigorously.

    “I’m sorry, I just can’t see you anymore,” he said again.

     “But I can see you,” she said with a serious tone.

     “What?” he asked.

     “You can’t see me anymore, but I can still see you,” she said. She stopped shoveling and looked dead into Frances' eyes, that held a cautious stare. She continued, “I can see that you are a coward and a cheater, and if you don’t tell your girlfriend the truth, then you’ll see a lot more of me than you want to.”

     Frances snickered and asked, “you're threatening me?”

     Grace continued to dig as she said, “it could seem that way.”      
      
      Frances stood there in confused silence, then hesitantly walked away, baffled as to what to do next.

 
       *                  *                      *
 
     Caroline was in her sunset lit room, saturated in pinks and peaches. She was feeding Prim, while wearing a beautiful velvet gown, barefoot; a gown much more extravagant than normal, as her ordinary cream color was traded in for a light silver, that still seemed to suit her perfectly. Caroline heard a knock at her door. She hurried through her hall, to the front door, and opened it, to see Frances suited up in a nice tuxedo. He was holding a white rose. It was a rose so perfectly bloomed and snow white.