The Grave

The bone lay openly on the brick wall. I gulped and took a step closer, shortening the rope of my dog’s leash. I didn’t know what kind of bone it was, but it looked slightly raw and the edges were ragged, as though there had been meat on it just hours before. I felt sick. I wanted to turn around and leave, but the bone wouldn’t leave my mind. I stood there, staring at it, wondering where it had come from.

At my dog’s frantic digging, I looked down. I yanked his leash, trying to drag him away, but he had already uncovered enough earth for me to see what had attracted his attention. Torn apart, a human body had been placed here in its grave. My gaze turned back to the lone bone on the brick wall.

With shaking hands, I was about to call the police, when ice cold fingers wrap around my neck from behind. I had been too caught in my own thoughts that I had not heard my dog’s warning bark.

© 2016

FFftPP, Week #24 – 2016

Photo prompt provided by https://pixabay.com/en/bone-large-ostrich-femur-bleached-316228/