Halloween Writing Prompt: Six Feet Under

Artie Drexel  is buried deep, he was buried in parts off the dirt road just two miles from his home.

Cars rush by, trucks shake the old broken down concrete road close to where  his head rests face down in the dirt.

Artie Drexel has a collection of beer cans and fast food wrappers for his severed head’s grave marker.

Coyotes, bears and mice, the occasional  stray dog stop by the pit where the rest of Artie was hidden, but he was buried deep, far to deep for them to take the time to dig him up.

Each of the forests passerby’s  stop  and sniffs the earth above Artie Drexel’s  headless body with appreciation and  then they sadly wander and scuttle away in regret. They are the only mourners Artie Drexel has ever had at his graveside.

They never leave flowers, but sometimes they leave tufts of golden and brown fur and bits of broken bones and feathers.

Artie Drexel is supposed to be dead, he should  be at peace but not even the dead can rest when life is thumping and crunching and roaring over their battered bones 24  hours a day.

In stead of sleeping then, Artie Drexel listens and he counts the heartbeats and the footsteps keeping him awake and have driven him mad over the years.

One day he hopes he will be able to get himself together and make it to the road and return the favor to those people in the cars and trucks and motorcycles.

Only Artie Drexel doesn’t plan on rushing off, no sir. Artie is looking  forward to spending a lot of time returning the favor.

Lots of time.