When we are young and just learning how to read, stories transport us to magical worlds. -Intellectual Shaman
The grave where I sunk my shovel was broken and cracked like the dead tried to escape the ground. I stood over the wooden coffin and didn’t see anything remarkable; just dirt. I looked at the other coffin and flipped the lid. There was nothing in there except a dead cat.
“Puddin; she died last week. I thought you might bury her while you were waking up ghosts.”
“Who’s grave are we resurrecting?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. All I know is, this section was reserved for the most disreputable and they were buried in unmarked graves; in one word, pirates.”
I tapped the wooden coffin with my shovel and it didn’t tap back. “Nobody home,” I said.
“Better use a pick ax.”
CRACK. The lock broke and I pried open the lid. There was a skeleton in there, fully clothed from head to toe, and suddenly, the sun struck the bones and they evaporated like they were dissolving in acid.
“Get back!” The superintendent said. “You don’t want to breath in the remains!”
Dust collected on the clothes and there was nothing remarkable about them. He looked like a midshipman; some unimportant officer of a renegade navy.
“The way I have it figured, we have approximately 200 more graves to dig up. We can do them at night or during the day. At night we might get murdered!”
“What’s this ‘We’ business?” Didn’t you have me unknowingly digging up a pirate ghost?”
“Well… yes, but let’s put that behind us. It was an experiment that went wrong. I take it, you would prefer to dig up bodies during the daytime?”
“That’s my preference, but why am I doing it?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” the superintendent said.
I thought about walking away, but his offer of 500 dollars a body still stood, so I decided to keep on digging.