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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Dark · #2225863
we all have secrets to bury
Secrets to Bury

         The shovel seemed to weigh a ton as I heaved what seemed to be the millionth load of dirt out of the hole. No longer being able to see out of the hole, I knew I finally dug deep enough, and I flopped onto the bottom with a sigh of relief.

         After hours of sweat, my secrets could be safely buried beneath the surface. Once the box was at the bottom and covered with seven feet of soil, I would be free of the skeletons that haunted my closet. For so long, I hid with these secrets, through three marriages, eight children, and none had ever found out the truth.

         Year after year, the fear of being found created an insanity which for decades created the need for more secrets. A near perfect life precariously balanced, and just opening this box would have destroyed me and my happiness. No more! This night I declared to myself to bury the shoebox, and with it the secret inside.

         The breeze trickled through the trees above ground, and the dancing of moonlight high on the walls of the grave I dug reminded me dawn approached soon, and my task needed to be completed. I rose up with aching muscles and after tossing the shovel out, followed it to the surface.

         Frightened of what could happen when I buried the box, I was even more scared of what would happen if I kept the box any longer. I looked it over one last time. It was so very old. A shoe box made of wood, not cardboard, with its top hinged and latched. Running my fingers over the intricate carved surface, I realized they didn't make shoe boxes like this anymore. An index finger toyed at the latch, but I forced myself to stop from opening. I knew a glance of what lay inside would prevent me from becoming rid of my sins. The demons of my past chanted invitingly for me to open, and veins with aneurismal bulging swelled from my forehead.

         The light of the sun was just starting to appear on the horizon, and I wasted no more silly time reminiscing over that which will never again be. My hand released the box and it, of course, landed upright at the bottom of the hole. I thwarted temptation for the first time in my life, and a moment of pride circled my body with delight. Voices in my head pleaded for me to stop, to jump in, get the box, and run back home. My stomach churned and twisted from the knowledge of what was about to happen as I grabbed the shovel. Filling a hole never took as long as digging, and for that I was glad.

         Shovel by shovel I heaved the dirt back into place. Muscles cramped and screamed with Charlie Horse agony, but I managed and when the sun peeked over the trees, the hole had been filled, my box of secrets rested quietly, safely at the bottom. A new day, a new start, I started back home. A smile crossed my face, knowing the past was now buried behind me, and a tear rolled down my eye, knowing I could never again behold my box of secrets.

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