Rain poured down as she was shoveling dirt all by herself. She'd been at it for an hour now, trying to carve two graves out of the cold earth. There were no bodies for her to bury, yet she felt it was her duty to pay respect to the lost lives of her sisters in the way her ancestors had always done before her.
Instead of caskets, she ended up burying two flowers, a yellow one and a blue one. It was a silly reference to their favorite colors as kids, but in a weird way, it also brought her comfort. She marked the graves with nameless tombstones, and just as the sun was breaking through the clouds again, she walked away from them, hoping to have achieved some closure.
YOU ARE READING
Tiny Stories Part 2
Short StoryMy second collection of microfiction, sometimes dealing with the mundane, but mostly dealing with the magical. Unlike the first collection, the stories in this one are based on inktober prompts.
