Deborah walked into her backyard holding Bootsie, yet another victim laying on the road near her house. It was early in the morning, around eight am when Deborah was taking her usual morning stroll around down towards ‘MILLERS MARKET’ for coffee and town gossip. She was halfway there when she first spotted the hairy pile on the side of the road. It was Bootsie, the elder cat that belonged to the Sanderson family over on Birchtree Avenue. Deborah recognized its fur. She stopped in front of the carcass and knelt down. Bootsie’s eyes were open but, stuck in an endless stare.
“Oh lord, not another one”. Deborah thought to herself sadly. Her trip to get coffee would have to be postponed this morning. She already had on gloves due to these chilly New England Fall days. She reached out and scooped up all the freshly disemboweled pieces of Bootsie.
Twenty minutes later, she was now standing in her backyard holding a shovel. Bootsie lay next to her waiting for its final resting place. Deborah started to dig. Her arthritis was starting to really get to bother her lately, but she rarely complained. She thought of her late husband, Earl and his words every time she wanted to cry out loud to him about the pain.
“Ain’t nothing wrong with you, Debbie. You just lazy AND stupid. It’s all in that fat head of yours”. That usually was followed up with a nerve shattering slap on her ass or whatever else was in his reach.
She dug a hole about three feet down and pushed the remains of Bootsie into it with her left foot. He was gone and it was time to cover him up. The dirt filled up the hole rather quickly, leaving a small mound rising above the earth’s surface.
Deborah put the final scoop of dirt on top of Bootsie’s grave and stood up to hear her back creak from age. She let out a sigh and looked around her entire yard. It was a big piece of property going all the way back to a small landlocked piece of woods. This was the place that Earl insisted they purchase, even though it was states away from her loving family and true home. But, that was years ago. Deborah grew to like it here, even created a blessed life here. She loved her backyard now more than ever. Every since she made these twelve mysterious mounds scattered throughout the property. There was always some animal out there, dead from the impact of some four-wheeled monster. She couldn’t let those poor things just lay there and rot without a proper burial. Besides, with her husband gone and her now retired, this occupied all the free time she had on her hands. Why not put it good use? She leaned her chin on the shovel and said a short prayer for Bootsie. Deborah did this for all the things she buried in her backyard except, for the one furthest in the back near the shed. That one Deborah pushed the body in the hole, quickly covered it up and laughed instead of prayed. She remembers that day all over again now and finds herself smiling again as she turns to look back at that mound-the largest one in her backyard. It was the biggest hole that Deborah dug, took her over an hour to dig it.
That was to be expected though. After all, Earl was a big guy. Deborah put away her shovel and went into her house and fixed her morning breakfast, knowing she had done a good thing in burying Bootsie.
August Writing Prompt-Mysterious mounds-Day 3/31