Writing Prompt
STORY STARTER
It’s the middle of November and I'm trudging through three feet of snow because, much to my dismay, bodies don't just bury themselves.
Write a story starting with this sentence.
Writings
Snowbound Graves
In war, fairness is a myth—at least in this world.
Odessa trudged through three feet of snow, her boots sinking with each step. Much to her dismay, bodies don’t bury themselves.
November marked the beginning of the resistance’s plan. By now, Queen Morana’s forces should be half-frozen, their limbs sluggish, their reflexes filled by the cold.
Odessa’s orders were simple: lead a small legion, ambush the unsuspecting enemy…and when the chaos settled—if all went well—let the freshly fallen snow bury their bodies beneath its quiet, unmerciful weight.
Snow Witnesses❄
It was mid-November, and I was trudging through three feet of snow because, much to my disappointment, bodies didn’t just bury themselves. The white blanket beneath my feet creaked treacherously, like a loud laugh that echoed through the empty forest. Taehyung—or Hyun, as Jeong, the charismatic boy, affectionately called him—still felt the steel fingers of guilt on his heart.
Why did I even agree to this? he thought. He stopped, leaning on his shovel, and looked up at the dark sky. Nothing moved. Even the stars, like invisible observers, were frozen, giving no sign of their presence.
A body wrapped in dark cloth lay a little further away, in the middle of the snow blanket, like a detail of a painting that the artist forgot to erase. “You didn’t want this, did you?” — the cold voice of reason cut through his consciousness, but Hyun only chuckled.
He took a step forward, and then a branch cracked somewhere nearby. Taehyung froze, clutching the handle of the shovel in his hand. — Chon? — he muttered, almost not hoping for an answer.
And then, as luck would have it, the snow curtain opened — Jeongguk came out of the shadows of the trees, his black cloak blending with the night landscape. — Hyun, I thought you could handle it without me, — a dry smile flashed in his voice, but his gaze was serious, tenacious, like a hunter's. — You've been here forever.
— And you try to do it faster, if you're so smart, — Hyun snapped, but his hands were shaking from the cold, mixed with the approaching fear.
Jungkook came closer, looked at the roughly wrapped body and snapped his fingers, as if urging Taehyung to action. “Come on, let’s finish this. The sooner we get him out of here, the sooner we can leave.”
“Then what?” Taehyung snapped, his voice shaking like a string.
Jungkook came closer and leaned in to his ear. “Then we’ll pretend this never happened.”
Taehyung felt the icy rush of heat on his skin turn to heat. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the shovel and began digging. And the stars, still silent witnesses, now seemed even colder.
Trabajo antes del desayuno.
Cami sentía como cada vez se hundía mas y más en la nieve, la que crujía con cada paso que lograba dar. Creía que llevaría caminando ya una media hora, pero a lo lejos aún lograba percibir el sonido de la ciudad: el claxón de los autos, la sirena de una ambulancia y el ladrido de los perros.
Tenía que seguir caminando, adentrarse aún más en el bosque, más dentro de la sierra, áun más profundo.
Suspiró y miró a sus espaldas, la bolsa de cadaver que venía cargando desde hacía la maldita media hora.
Caleb la esperaba al pie del cerro, dentro de la van muy calientito y tomandose su café, mientras ella tenía que arrastrar a un Don nadie hasta la parte más lejana de la zona y dejarlo ahí, esperando que los animales salvajes hicieran lo suyo y la nieve que esperaba que siguera cayendo lo cubriera, para que el cuerpo no fuera localizado hasta la primavera.
Se lo había dicho a la Señora Nohémi, se lo había dicho bastantes veces: un incinerador, no queda residuo que ocultar y es más limpio.
¡Ah! pero la mafia China tenía sus creencias y formas de hacer funcionar las cosas. Nada como un cuerpo mutilado tirado en el bosque como para mandar un mensaje a el grupo rival.
Normalmente se encargaban ella y Caleb juntos de "tirar" la basura, pero en esta ocasión, alguien debía quedarse en la van por si la patrulla de caminos decidía detenerse por ver un vehículo solo, totalmente blanco y con placas dispares estacionado sospechosamente a medio camino de llegar a cualquier lado.
Además alguien tenía que limpiar los... jugos del Señor sin nombre del auto.
Sería fácil, se dijo, tu limpias este tiradero y yo voy y lo aviento en el despeñadero, acabamos pronto y luego nos vamos al brunch en la ciudad.
Pero no contaba con casi el metro de nieve que se ponía en su camino, con ese maldito metro de nieve que no le dejaba ver piedras, agujeros y las raices nudosas de los árboles con las que se enredaba los pies.
Eso si podía agradecerle a la nieve, la libraba de irse de hocico contra el piso.
Siguió avanzando, tratando de consolarse imaginando el suculento y abundante desayuno que la esperaba: Chilaquiles, huevito estrellado, frijoles, café cargado y posiblemente media docena de conchas recién hechas. Su estómago gruñó con fuerza, odiaba tener que trabajar con el estómago vacío, pero si esperaba más tiempo Mr. John Doe se pondría tieso como tabla y sería más dificil hacerlo pasar por un accidente de senderismo.
Pensando en eso, se detuvo, le dió la vuelta a la bolsa para evitar que la sangre se acumulara demasiado en un solo lugar y siguió caminando.
Llegó a lo que parecía un pequeño claro entre el mar de árboles, justo en la orilla de una empinada bajada, al fondo se veían rocas bastante puntiagudas. Aquí sería, ya no sentía los dedos de los pies y los de las manos le dolían a pesar de los guantes.
Con todo el dolor de su corazón, se quitó los guantes tejidos, los guardó en el bolsillo y se puso los de latex negros que traia en una pequeña bolsa de plástico hermética. Abrió la bolsa y levanto el cadáver con algunas dificultades por la condenada nieve.
Al no poder verla, se resbaló con una piedra, así que terminó acostada en el suelo, medio enterrada en la nieve y con un cadáver encima.
Olvida el desayuno, primero se bañaría y quemaría la ropa que traia puesta.
No sin problemas, pero logró ponerse de pie de nuevo, esta vez sin resbalarse, y lanzó al Fulano al claro, el cadaver cayó, resbalando por la pendiente hasta terminar en el fondo rocoso.
Se quedó parada un momento, mirando la postura en la que había caido el cadáver, luego se dió media vuelta y emprendió el camino de regreso a la van.
Iba a poner en la lista de regalos que le pedían sus jefas para año nuevo (Chinas tenían que ser) el incinerador.
I Am the Undertaker
They call me the Undertaker. And I am. An undertaker. That is truly my profession. But when the Company needs some body to disappear, they call me. I do after all, have a special talent. And the means to make said body find a new home.
The problem is that today, we have had an early snow. A big, early snow. Three feet in the middle of November. I can’t believe I’m trudging through the snow. I can’t believe they called me in the middle of this snowstorm. That’s right. The snow isn’t about to stop. No. Not now. Probably not for a couple days. But what’s an undertaker to do? The boss said, “Bodies don’t just bury themselves, you know.”
Bodies don’t just bury themselves, you know. Bodies don’t just bury themselves, you know. I shoulda just mocked him to his face. “Bodies don’t just bury themselves, you know.” Yeah right. I’m all talk. Besides, he can always find another undertaker. One who will gladly take my body out in this snow and bury it. After all, I am dispensable and I literally know where the bodies are buried. Hah! I am so funny.
Ah well, at least I don’t need to drag the body. Or anything like that. They just brought it up to the mortuary and I’m about to take care of it.
Only thing is, the boss said I gotta preserve the body. Can’t just cremate it. Those are the easy ones. I just throw ‘em in the oven and put the ashes under somebody else’s coffin. Yeah. Those are the easy ones. Even in the snow. Just excavate the site and in the ashes go. No muss. No fuss.
But this one’s tougher. Gotta put the whole body under somebody else’s. Just dig the grave deeper and toss ‘im in. Not too much muss or fuss. Just a little.
It’s funny. I used to do it differently. The first time, I just threw the body in with somebody in a crypt. But some of those folks actually want to see the dead body later. Do something with the bones. Ugh. That even creeps me out. And nothing creeps me out. At least not about dead bodies.
Then, I put one in a coffin with somebody else. I stopped that when I realized that people could be exhumed.
So with this one, I’ll use my tried and true method. Dig deep. Put the body in the hole. Put some of the dirt back. Then, do the burial like nothing abnormal happened. It even works when they want a graveside service. Thankfully, tomorrow’s funeral family really cares about him. Cares enough to have his funeral in three feet of snow. At least they don’t want a graveside ceremony. Just a service up at the church and I take it from there.
But I still gotta trudge through the snow today. I still gotta get the tractor out and find the plot and scrape the plot and dig the plot. Really deep. It’s not gonna be easy. But it’s the first big snowstorm. The ground hasn’t had time to get really frozen yet. So it oughta be okay.
Still. It is the middle of November. There’s three feet of snow. Actually, more now. And I’m trudging through said snow to get to the tractor. Because much to my dismay, dead bodies do not just bury themselves.
Shallow Grave
It’s the middle of November and I’m trudging through three feet of snow because, much to my dismay, bodies don’t just bury themselves. Sigh. The things I do for money. Lucky for me, the snow is light and kicks away from me in delightful puffs with each step I take. Sunlight comes through the trees in golden columns. The ground glitters like millions of tiny diamonds. It pays to notice the beautiful things in this line of work. Yeah, I might be hauling the corpse of some two-hundred-pound jackass who couldn’t pay his debt but look how pretty this forest is! My mind wanders as I walk, letting my thoughts drift to happier thoughts – the warm fire waiting for me at home; what I’m going to have for lunch; what chapter I’m on in the book I’m reading. Without realizing it, I’ve walked to my last dumping spot. The snow has now covered the subtle discoloured patch where I buried the last guy to owe my boss money. By spring, the ground will all look the same, saturated with the melted snow. God willing, the bugs will have picked apart buddy’s body until there’s nothing but bone and stringy tissue. He’ll become a part of the earth. Circle of life, and all that. I can’t bury jackass here. I call him jackass because I can’t remember his name. I’m sure my boss told me so I could be sure to get the right guy, but it’s slipped my mind. I walk further into the woods, stopping once or twice in a sunny patch to let the warmth wash over my face. Jackass’s lack of name is starting to bother me. Was it Rich? Richard? Something with an R, I’m sure. I’ve reached a spot I think will do. It’s far enough from the other site, and deep enough in the woods it’s not likely to be stumbled over. I drop the edge of the tarp I used to wrap up -- Robert! That’s his name – and take the shovel from the pack on my back. I push the blade through the layers of snow until I feel the ground vibrate against the metal. It goes in, but the dirt is nearly frozen. It’s going to be a tough one. Shallow grave it is. Sorry, Robert. I start digging.
Beautiful Red Snow
I had come to almost enjoy my job, although it was hard to during the deep snow of November. Most of the bodies had been buried in the snow which I had thought would mean I get the day off my snow melts, so I must bury them in the earth. Stupid, really. Today was abnormal however, the blood was yet to freeze and it was actually quite beautiful. The red seeped into the the deep snow in a mesmerising pattern, like a fractal, as was making it easier to actually find the corpses.
The snow was starting to get annoying. It was seeping into my boots making my socks wet and was hard to wade through, like a dense swimming pool (I mean, that’s technically what it is). I’d say that I had buried about 10 of the 15ish bodies in this area. Not long left until I can go home and clean up.
Buried Bones Reveal A Derailed Life
It’s the middle of November and I'm trudging through three feet of snow because, much to my dismay, bodies don't just bury themselves. I knew that going into this, to be fair. It just didn't seem like quite as big of a deal at the time. It should have been the quick and easy, tie a ribbon on it and done, part of the operation. The snow storm in the beginning of November made sure that wouldn't be true.
Again, my fault, I suppose, for growing complacent in my role. I should always expect shit to go wrong; it's kind of the standard in this line of work. Nobody gets involved with the mafia because things are going right in their life. And less than nobody uses their role in said mafia to become an informant for the FBI because everything had gone the way it was supposed to.
That leaves me - miles away from the nearest trace of human civilization, in an area so remote I lost cell phone service 10 miles back, cleaning up my mess as I prepare to return to the mess that my life has become.
Retirement
It’s the middle of November and I’m trudging through three feet of snow because, much to my dismay, bodies don’t just bury themselves.
With blood drenched hands I pull the small plastic sled behind me, piled with a crumpled former colleague. I stop, doubling over, panting in the chilly air. Sweat already soaking my forehead and socks. I look over my shoulder at the deadweight of arms, legs and bloody clothes on the sled. Two miles done, four to go. I let out a displeased groan. My legs burning as I started my dismal march.
It was an accident, at least that’s what I keep telling myself. It was just a slip of the wrist, he caught me off guard. Same with the knife buried in his stomach. Although I doubt anyone will miss him, he was a royal ass. It made me miss it though, that nasty habit of mine. That compulsion that made my fingers itch, made my nostrils flare and my heart race. His now dried blood on my hands felt rejuvenating, his breathless gasp as I buried my knife into his guts ringing in my ears, over and over. I shuttered, not from the cold, but from the familiar euphoric sensation that ran up my spine. Maybe it’s time to come out of retirement. Get some new hunting grounds, find some misplaced souls. Lost to my thinking, I step on a patch of ice under the snow, sending me crashing to the ground. Sprawled out in the snow drenched in sweat and legs burning, I remember why I stopped.
Test Trials
It’s the middle of November and I’m trudging through three feet of snow because, much to my dismay, bodies don’t just bury themselves. The sunlight reflects off the snowy floor blinding my eyes as I continue my path through this barren land. I give a piggy back ride to the corpse of my friend, whom just died from the Infection. He knew, and I knew, just never wanted to speak of it, that it would not be long before he would be taken from this world to the next. This journey we had set on took a toll which only worsened his condition. And made my current situation much harder than it already was. Honestly, I might just leave him here and bury him, the situation is too tough to be carrying a rotting corpse. A snow storm seems to be on the horizon even, so carrying a body will only inhibit my speed to find or build shelter. But, for the sake of his family back home, I can’t do so…but hypothetically… 🤷♂️