Fifty Real Shades of Grey by @ruinedpicnic

 

  1. The sky over the farmstead, and the grassy hills behind it where you stand
  2. The dust on the gloves you took from the workhouse behind the farmhouse
  3. The hard, sharp tip of the shovel as you lift out another clump of dirt
  4. The first duffel bag, as you drop it into the hole and it hits the ground with a thud
  5. The rising claws of smoke from your cigarette, as throw it into the hole and bury it
  6. The ill-fitting boots, as you stamp down the dirt you replaced, the slightest bit higher now
  7. The weathered wheels of the pickup truck as you climb back in
  8. The steering wheel, as you turn it to manoeuvre down the hill, and to your next spot
  9. The large round stone you choose as the site for the next burial
  10. The looming cloud above, as you once again dig as deep as you can
  11. The second duffel bag, dropped down and smothered with dirt and rocks
  12. The murky spots of rain on the windows as you drive a little further
  13. The puddle you stop by, growing with each drop
  14. The ground here, mixed with mud and clay
  15. The third and final duffel bag, three feet under the wet ground below you
  16. The headstone that the farmer will never have
  17. The old weathervane, dancing in the wind as you approach the house
  18. The gravel of the driveway, as you park the truck and take a deep breath
  19. The doorstep, stained darker with the rainwater
  20. The keys in your hand, not your keys
  21. The hinges of the door as they creak, seeming to fill the house with their cry
  22. The concrete floor, still littered with the wet footprints of your previous visit
  23. The dirt under your fingernails as you remove the gloves
  24. The grey hair peppered around the basin as you wash your hands
  25. The razor that cut the hairs, the razor you’re washing too
  26. The static from the television, breathing in the other room
  27. The ash in the fireplace as you fall back into the armchair, exhausted
  28. The mud caked onto your boots as you kick them off
  29. The coat of the man in the painting on the wall
  30. The colour of his eyes, which saw what you did and are watching you still
  31. The wolf pelt on the floor, the silver fur of which is interrupted by a splash of red
  32. The blades of the scissors, as you trim the stains out of the pelt
  33. The rusty trashcan, as you toss them inside
  34. The newspaper you tear as you realise your mistake, and dig them out again in desperation
  35. The cement between the fireplace bricks as you illuminate them with a match
  36. The puffs of ugly smoke as you try to burn the wolf hairs
  37. The door handle, lightly tested and then the scream of those hinges as it opens
  38. The inside lock, which you neglected, which bangs on the wall as the door swings open
  39. The small cloud of ash as you stamp out the flames
  40. The slate counters of the kitchen as you stumble in
  41. The knife you take, sticky with breadcrumbs
  42. The pans, reflecting your face, cowardly, lost, done for
  43. The darker, bigger storm clouds outside, rumbling and growling hungrily for your blood
  44. The shadow in the corner, where your weak mind chooses to hide your body
  45. The jacket of the man who charges into the room
  46. The badge on his chest, shiny but not new, the last true shield
  47. The thick hair, dripping as he sees you, and raises up his arms
  48. The barrel of his gun, and what awaits you inside
  49. The wall you push against as you make your last move
  50. The bullet
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