My father was a gravedigger; taught me everything he knew.
Like that graves aren’t really six feet deep or that coffins and shrouded bodies require different things.
He taught me about the afterlife, murder and suicide. He taught me to wield a shovel whether I dig it in the ground or fight for my life. He taught me that those who feared death would be the first to die.
Mother never appreciated his gifts. “Unladylike.”
She never imagined I would own a yacht. I took her out to sea.
My father taught me a lot, like ignoring her screams.
Word Count: 99
For Friday Fictioneers – I know the picture isn’t a yacht.
Your father taught you tricks of trade and life. You learnt and applied. Result is for everyone to see.
Or maybe for no one to find? Thank you for reading!
Wow, I really enjoyed the voice in this story and great twist! =)
Thank you!
So interesting. Brilliant
Thank you so much
Yikes!
Yeah … Maybe not the best product parenting has produced.
Damn! That’s cold. I had an idea of where it was going, and I still got chills. Excellent work.
Thank you!
My dad was a cop, and I learned a lot from him, such as that I wasn’t cut out to be a cop. 😀
Ha! I could never be a cop. Thanks for reading