The Bone Man

Bodies buried in a time of ritual
Settled deep underfoot is
Dug over by the archaeologist
Scraping away the past digging up
Memories.
They said the odd was hounded to death
People liked to say such things if terror was
Resultant.
The archaeologist rarely listened to rumour
He was interested in the bones
Skeletons of those that travelled
This dug up
Road.
Rain lashes the rim
The hole collapses and clouds
Gathered in resplendent
Black
Pay homage to the archaeologist lost digging his
Hole
Lost in the
Mud when the walls
Collapsed
Becoming one with the ancient
Bones.

 

 

Neil Weston is from the UK. He has micro fiction, flash fiction published and due to be published at Cuento Magazine, Infective Ink, The Eschatology Journal, Diamond Point Press-twenty20journal and Folded Word: PIC FIC.