"It
was the last shovelful of earth and I was tired! I dug the shovel in the pile
of earth looked to the heavens as if seeking relief. The moon reflected the
beads of sweat on the handle of the tool that was instrumental release my
agony, the shovel was smeared with blood and dirt ... The desolation of the
place even more saddened my heart stained by the pain of malice, the crime he
had just committed, afraid of the punishments inflicted by those who did not
know my pain - He lied! - I felt the throb inexperienced hand calluses without
the practice of effort the legwork asked. I sat down at the ground then it
should be holy, because on it rests those who were once great men. Sitting
where I was even away could see the shadow of the imposing mausoleum of my family.
I was at the bottom cemetery on the east side of his distant entrance, an evil
space reserved for indigent care and suicidal, beheld a simple pit that housed
that body, was too good for him.
That
it was just pulled out the heavy black leather jacket, bought at Arco Verde,
whose wonderful finish would be better used for those still living; Besides
that could offer some resistance to the insatiable hunger of worms that fertile
soil, satisfied smiles. The night cooled abruptly and the work was finished.
But what was my surprise when breathless and pale horror saw telltale
illuminated by momentary glare of lightning inquisitors feet of earth
discovered that one day I called brother! ... "
CONTINUOUS in the
book: "13 Tales - Of Dreams and Madness"
from writer Sidney Leal
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