The air was thick, so stained and rich with death that is was palpable. The darkness chased away the sun just like the putrid crows chased away the children in the cemetery. Most say funerals are for the living, but truthfully both funerals and cemeteries are for the living, and i’m solid evidence to support that. I begin digging into the coarse earth where resting corpses lie, where my family lie, and I am reminded of my late daughter when worms arise and are resurrected from the depths of the crust –how she used to scream and cry in fear whenever on the soil persisting that they would crawl into her shoes. After my family’s death I swore that i’d never leave them behind just as many do when they walk away from the cemetery, my innocent kids that paid the price were in a place deep within my heart and I yearned for their presence. Due to that oath I became a council worker, the fulfillment is uncanny, and I still get shivers from the reality of my work though the fulfillment counteracts the sad truth of it.