It was the middle of the night when I woke up, and had trouble falling asleep again. So, I got up and stood by the window gaining a clear view into the backyard.
The crickets chirped, a peculiar sound that has always given me comfort. The soft breeze whistled, pulling the trees back.
The shrub beneath rustled, when a dark figure emerged in the corner of the backyard. He held a shovel in his left hand, tapping it against the floor. My heart clenched in fear. Backing away from the window, I went back to my bed and hid under the covers praying it was all just a dream. Perhaps an hour had passed, maybe even longer. I lost track of time as the thumping continued below my window.
I prayed silently, unaware when the darkness had washed over me.
The next morning when I awoke, curiosity drove me down the flight of stairs and into the backyard. When I reached the exact spot the figure had been standing, I noticed fresh soil roughly patted down.
I sat down, staring at the surface. Digging the soil away with my hands, I stumbled backwards; the pit was filled with several infant hands and feet, all of which were covered in dry blood.
My heart pounded in my chest. Looking closer at the pit, I noticed a piece of paper. Slowly, I reached towards it, my hands shaking the entire time.
Opening it carefully, I found writing on the inside. It said “How did you sleep?”