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Description
     It is night. The cast of starlight is all that keeps the world from being completely shadowed. The backyard feels like a cemetery, and it is. No marble stones mark the graves but I know they lie all around. I buried His head out here, somewhere, and now I must find it. I must have been in shock or delusion when I buried it out here. A quick funeral, inappropriate in the manner it was done, but it had to be done quickly. I thrust the shovel into the ground, scoop up the grass and dirt and toss it gently to the side. Why? I dont know. I wish I had time to put the puzzle together with the few pieces I vaguely recollect, but each piece falls away from the broken web of memory like the earth being cut from itself by the blade of a shovel.
     In a glimpse of revealed memory I watch, as if outside of myself, a person with my own likeness bearing a machete held up towards the night sky. In a sudden instant I watched that sinister tool curve high over his head and down to meet the neck of an inanimate beast that lay on the ground. With a single slice the head was severed. Within a slice of that moment I swear I had seen the crescent of the Moon shoot me a glance in my eye, nearly illuminating the nakedness of my soul.
     And his eyes. What did I see in those eyes of mine? Fear or rage, I ponder helplessly at this interpretation, and all questions whose answers rest peacefully in the depths of my mind. Wondering why I am out here looking for Him right now. Instinct? I know from a feeling deep in my stuttering heart that I must find it. Instinct. Thats why I did it. No! I'm crazy. Too crazy to trust my reasoning and too crazy to believe that this is just a dream. If I am sleeping, I don’t want to wake for the mystery has my spirit involved. I scoop up more grass and toss it. More and toss it. More and more till I have a circular (grave) trench. I stab the shovel into the ground with all my might. Nothing. I stab it again a little left. Right. Up, down. Again. And again. I thrust it until it becomes obvious that there is nothing here. I jump out of my (grave) hole and walk a few paces in that direction. Thrust the blade into the ground and proceed with this same task. Time passes by. Nothing. I jump out and move about in a random direction. Thrust my shovel into the ground, over and over again. The task in no time at all becomes a ritual. My head wanders from the labor. A somewhat different place each time. But still all in all in the same vicinity, just like these (graves) holes.
     There is nothing quite like the eerie feeling perceived from a 'dream' like this. The air is oh so slightly warmer than my body. No breeze and no sounds except for me. Like a cushion surrounding me, I am quarantined from the elements encircling me. There is a heavy mist in the air. Has to be. I see fine, but the further my eyes reach, the more it seems like black emptiness. Or it could be that all I see is all there is. Dream or not, I have my work cutout for tonight.
     Time passes by. Nothing. I look around to see a dozen or more (graves) holes scattered about. Where am I? Behind me to the distance I could almost see a white silhouette of the house I came from. I stabbed the earth hard, this time I can feel the sore blisters forming in my left hand. Why, oh why must I torment myself like this? Why must I feel like a slave of the dead, a dead animal to be exact, when I could be in bed right now, if not sleeping then making up excuses for these (graves) pits all over the backyard. Instead I let my body do the work, letting my mind go where it feels comfort or delight.
     I recall a dream of another life, a better one. Seamus is laying on the couch, giant head in my lap. I remember this day because I had nothing left to live for, except for this mutt. I sat there stroking His ears and neck. I could still feel the tears dried up on my face as I wondered what would happen to my dear and faithful dog if I was gone. “Oh Seamus, what would you do without me?” I smiled down at his upturned eyes. “I would never let anything happen to you. No, Seamus. No I wouldn’t,” I playfully said as he turned his head to me and raised his ears, tail wagging, giving me the look of love and dumbness. Or was that the look of “Oh, really?”, did he know of his destiny?
     Time went by, which is strange thing to say, because out here, it feels so still. But as I can feel exhaustion setting in, my intuition warns me of another presence. I felt hairs standing up and a chill all over my body as it dawns on me, Seamus is here.
     "I'm sorry, Seamus. You were my best friend," I spoke, as if He would understand. "I'm sorry, really sorry. I just want this to end."
      I have realized I am in a deep (grave) hole a little over waist high and immediately try to pull myself out. But as my hands pull on the cool uprooting grass my ears receive the complex vibrations of soft little feet walking, no, trotting quickly from my right to behind me some distance away. I turn my head so quickly a pain shoots through, paralyzing my neck from any movement for a moment. And I see nothing, nothing except the countless (graves) digs my hands were so eager to make. And the scariness of the night finally enters my veins as the world and my body becomes real to me. Voices awaken from the blackest (grave) pit of my soul, why did you do it? How could you, He was always by your side? You deserve what you get, Murderer! Murderer! MURDERER!!!
     "My God, what have I done?!" I shriek at the top of my lungs. And I am answered with silence. Almost completely black silence except for the heavy drum beat of my mortality. I fall to my knees and lay back inside my grave and close my eyes as I listen to the rhythm and wait for my dog to give me a wet lick on my cheek, waking me from this nightmare I no longer wanted to endure.

Description
     It is night. The cast of starlight is all that keeps the world from being completely shadowed. The backyard feels like a cemetery, and it is. No marble stones mark the graves but I know they lie all around. I buried His head out here, somewhere, and now I must find it. I must have been in shock or delusion when I buried it out here. A quick funeral, inappropriate in the manner it was done, but it had to be done quickly. I thrust the shovel into the ground, scoop up the grass and dirt and toss it gently to the side. Why? I dont know. I wish I had time to put the puzzle together with the few pieces I vaguely recollect, but each piece falls away from the broken web of memory like the earth being cut from itself by the blade of a shovel.
     In a glimpse of revealed memory I watch, as if outside of myself, a person with my own likeness bearing a machete held up towards the night sky. In a sudden instant I watched that sinister tool curve high over his head and down to meet the neck of an inanimate beast that lay on the ground. With a single slice the head was severed. Within a slice of that moment I swear I had seen the crescent of the Moon shoot me a glance in my eye, nearly illuminating the nakedness of my soul.
     And his eyes. What did I see in those eyes of mine? Fear or rage, I ponder helplessly at this interpretation, and all questions whose answers rest peacefully in the depths of my mind. Wondering why I am out here looking for Him right now. Instinct? I know from a feeling deep in my stuttering heart that I must find it. Instinct. Thats why I did it. No! I'm crazy. Too crazy to trust my reasoning and too crazy to believe that this is just a dream. If I am sleeping, I don’t want to wake for the mystery has my spirit involved. I scoop up more grass and toss it. More and toss it. More and more till I have a circular (grave) trench. I stab the shovel into the ground with all my might. Nothing. I stab it again a little left. Right. Up, down. Again. And again. I thrust it until it becomes obvious that there is nothing here. I jump out of my (grave) hole and walk a few paces in that direction. Thrust the blade into the ground and proceed with this same task. Time passes by. Nothing. I jump out and move about in a random direction. Thrust my shovel into the ground, over and over again. The task in no time at all becomes a ritual. My head wanders from the labor. A somewhat different place each time. But still all in all in the same vicinity, just like these (graves) holes.
     There is nothing quite like the eerie feeling perceived from a 'dream' like this. The air is oh so slightly warmer than my body. No breeze and no sounds except for me. Like a cushion surrounding me, I am quarantined from the elements encircling me. There is a heavy mist in the air. Has to be. I see fine, but the further my eyes reach, the more it seems like black emptiness. Or it could be that all I see is all there is. Dream or not, I have my work cutout for tonight.
     Time passes by. Nothing. I look around to see a dozen or more (graves) holes scattered about. Where am I? Behind me to the distance I could almost see a white silhouette of the house I came from. I stabbed the earth hard, this time I can feel the sore blisters forming in my left hand. Why, oh why must I torment myself like this? Why must I feel like a slave of the dead, a dead animal to be exact, when I could be in bed right now, if not sleeping then making up excuses for these (graves) pits all over the backyard. Instead I let my body do the work, letting my mind go where it feels comfort or delight.
     I recall a dream of another life, a better one. Seamus is laying on the couch, giant head in my lap. I remember this day because I had nothing left to live for, except for this mutt. I sat there stroking His ears and neck. I could still feel the tears dried up on my face as I wondered what would happen to my dear and faithful dog if I was gone. “Oh Seamus, what would you do without me?” I smiled down at his upturned eyes. “I would never let anything happen to you. No, Seamus. No I wouldn’t,” I playfully said as he turned his head to me and raised his ears, tail wagging, giving me the look of love and dumbness. Or was that the look of “Oh, really?”, did he know of his destiny?
     Time went by, which is strange thing to say, because out here, it feels so still. But as I can feel exhaustion setting in, my intuition warns me of another presence. I felt hairs standing up and a chill all over my body as it dawns on me, Seamus is here.
     "I'm sorry, Seamus. You were my best friend," I spoke, as if He would understand. "I'm sorry, really sorry. I just want this to end."
      I have realized I am in a deep (grave) hole a little over waist high and immediately try to pull myself out. But as my hands pull on the cool uprooting grass my ears receive the complex vibrations of soft little feet walking, no, trotting quickly from my right to behind me some distance away. I turn my head so quickly a pain shoots through, paralyzing my neck from any movement for a moment. And I see nothing, nothing except the countless (graves) digs my hands were so eager to make. And the scariness of the night finally enters my veins as the world and my body becomes real to me. Voices awaken from the blackest (grave) pit of my soul, why did you do it? How could you, He was always by your side? You deserve what you get, Murderer! Murderer! MURDERER!!!
     "My God, what have I done?!" I shriek at the top of my lungs. And I am answered with silence. Almost completely black silence except for the heavy drum beat of my mortality. I fall to my knees and lay back inside my grave and close my eyes as I listen to the rhythm and wait for my dog to give me a wet lick on my cheek, waking me from this nightmare I no longer wanted to endure.