Hide It Better

The rake scratched across the dry ground. Beautiful colored leaves swirl to the ground, the smell of old leaves filling the air. A crisp gush of cool wind flew through the air. The sky was a blueish grey, clouds dotting the horizon.

I had been spending what seems like decades raking the backyard. Living right next to the woods, it didn’t help. I dragged the rake back toward the pile, right up near the tree line of the woods. I took a few steps into the woods, gathering a bunch of leaves. That’s when the rake caught on it. The rake’s spikes caught on the white linen protruding from the ground.

Oh no. No. I thought I buried it deep enough. I did. 5 feet deep, that’s what I did. Did the rain bring it up? I buried it here knowing no one would look here. No one was home, I had time to re-bury it. Maybe this time further in the woods, pass the creek. Beyond the tall oak, through the prickly pines. Farther.

I dropped the rake and jogged to the shed. Slamming the door open and yanking the shovel off the hook. I didn’t even bother closing the shed. I ran back into the woods, heat rising in my body. I slammed the shovel into the dry, cracked ground. I scooped the chunks of dirt behind me, revealing the whole linen bag. It wasn’t quite white anymore, it was more mud stained now. I finished digging around the shallow hole. I threw the shovel back and reached down. With two hands, I gripped the fabric and heaved it up. Heavy. Not as heavy as before though. I threw the long bag over my shoulder, not wasting a single moment. I picked up the shovel from behind me and began hiking into the forest. Leaves crunched beneath my feet. The woods were cool, the wind blocked by the trees. Dry moss covered the forest floor and leaves fell everywhere. Mushrooms grew off of fallen trees and more sprouted from the ground. Some were white, brown and red. Their shapes all differed. Some were flat discs and others were like umbrellas. A few squirrels scurried away as I hiked. I half walked- half ran. I jumped over the creek, passed the large oak, ducked my head through the pines. I searched the trees, trying to find the perfect spot. I found a clearing between two sycamore trees. I dropped my cargo and began digging into the earth. This time, I made sure to dig it really deep. I spent almost an hour down in the dirt, digging and throwing the dirt behind me. The sun was now not as high in the sky as it was before. Not setting, but not noon either. I jumped from my deep hole out onto the dry moss. I walked to the linen bag, and I squatted down to it. I tore the thin fabric, revealing what I’ve been hiding all this time. The soft pale corpse laid inside. The skin was sickly, the closed eyelids black. The hair was still long. The hands were crossed over the chest, the blue dress beneath.

“I’m sorry. I had to do this. I’m just helping you. You know why. I’m not crazy. Ok? I had to do this.” I whispered to the body. I folded the linen back over the face. Picking her up again, I set her down into the deep hole. I closed my eyes for a second. I took a deep breath. Then I grabbed the shovel, and began dropping dirt down. A low chuckle came from the bag.

“I know. But you didn’t have to do it this way. You didn’t have to. We could’ve figured it out. And you are crazy. Good luck with the guilt of killing your own best friend.” The corpse cackled.

Tears trickled down my hot cheeks. She was wrong. I’m not crazy. She was. She had always been the good girl. One day I had enough and ended it. The day was in February. Snow was piled high and everyone was tired of school. My best friend and I had always been together, since kindergarten. We were polar opposites. I loved dark stories and getting in trouble. I couldn’t help it. My best friend was so nice and lived to help people. Always got her homework in on time, got 100s on every project. She couldn’t help it either. It was this that made everyone pay attention to her. Everyone loved her because she was nice and beautiful. Whenever they talked about her and her whereabouts, no one ever mentioned me. I felt invisible. Don’t get me wrong, I loved her. But I guess it just all got to me. We had a sleepover that night in February, and she said something.

“People love me. I’m so glad I’m kind and pretty.” She said in her high voice.

I’m sure she meant it differently, but I grew angry. I brought her out in the woods that night and drowned her in the creek. I felt guilty, but I quickly buried her there in my backyard. I returned to the house and claimed she left. I said I tried to stop her. Police looked for her and found nothing. They gave up a month later. I forgot about it.

The corpse of my best friend laughed. She giggled and through a laughing fit without moving.

“Shut up. I killed you a long time ago. Shut up.”

I pushed and shoved all the dirt into the hole.

She screamed. The awful screams were muffled by the dirt. But I didn’t care anymore. There would be more. I knew there would be. I would kill someone else. I don’t know who. But I had it in me.

I kicked the leaves back onto the now filled hole. I wiped my face with the back of my dirty hand. I stepped away and turned back around.

“Oh no.” I whispered.

A girl was standing 20 feet away from me. She trembled behind a tree. Her eyes were wide and she held her phone in her hand, the microphone pointed out to me. The girl didn’t move.

“Great. You saw all that.” I slapped my forehead.

“I guess you’re next now.”