Written for Sam in the hope she'll update this century.
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Powder grey clouds gathered overhead, threatening rain as a lone figure scraped a painstakingly neat rectangle clear of russety dead leaves. Seven foot by three of exposed loam dissolving softly into syrupy thick mud.
Riff Raff swore and wiped the back of his neck free from droplets, leaving a streak of grime. Beside him lay a small pile of bulbous white bodies, some partially veiled with thin scraps of brown, others baring their pale skins to the now pouring rain.
Swiftly, silently, they were shoved under the soil, stamped down and left without marker.
There would be daffodils next spring.
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It's exam season and I'm feeling meh-ish, I'd much rather be out planting flowers in the rain. To anyone reading this who looks at my cartoons- I have a whole sheet of stuff to draw when I'm not revising, so there will be updates, just not for a few weeks.