Past: Wonderland
T he rain poured heavily as the Pillar dug the grave. He had a cigarette puckered between his lips as he did. It’s been a long process. He hated it. But digging graves was a dirty job, and someone had to do it.
He kicked the corpse and let it roll down the hole, which he mockingly called the Rabbit Hole, a perfect name for a grave in Wonderland.
The corpse slumped down with a thud onto the mud. Lightning struck in the sky.
“No need for your special effects,” the Pillar smirked at the sky above. “He is just dead, and he will never be back, finally.”
He stretched his back and lit his cigarette against the stubborn rain. A little fiery flicker against the pissing sky above. He inhaled deeply. Staring at the corpse, he realized things had gone too far.
Fabiola’s name on his tongue was both bitter and sweet. Tonight’s event was going to change the future forever.
“Time to bury this grave shut,” he mumbled and let the rain kill his cigarette.
He picked up a shovel, and instead of dirt or mud, he used something else to shut bury the corpse.
“Let’s make this fun,” the Pillar said.
He started burying the corpse with teacups after teacups. A perfect grave for a perfect crime, for a stupid man who thought that killing the Pillar was an easy task.