First drafted on Typetrigger.
Harrison panted as he heaped the last shovel of dirt over his head. The dirt joined the large pile next to the hole in which he was standing in. Harrison threw the shovel out of the hole and gazed at what he had just uncovered. There at the bottom of the hole was a dirt covered assortment of bones.
Harrison pulled out a pair of latex gloves from his backpack and slipped them on. He opened his backpack all the way to reveal a re-sealable plastic bag. Carefully he picked up the closest bone — a femur, brushed the dirt off and placed it inside the bag. He repeated the process with the rest until the bottom of the hole was clear and his bag was full of bones. He sealed the plastic bag and zipped up his backpack.
In one quick movement Harrison grabbed the edge of the hole and pulled himself up. He grabbed the shovel and heaved the dirt he had worked so hard to retrieve, back into the hole. After that was finished he brushed the lumpy ground over to match the surrounding earth. Harrison pulled a few leaves off some trees and scattered them over the now-filled-in hole.
Harrison grabbed his bicycle leaning next to a nearby tree and haphazardly hopped on. He biked along with one hand, the other barely holding onto the large shovel. He made it home and dumped his bike into the unlocked garage. Harrison went round the back of the house and took the edges of the window and pried it open. Taking his backpack off first and placing it inside his bedroom he then squeezed through the gap.
Harrison unzipped his backpack and laid the bag out on the table. It was time he investigate the truth behind Fluffy’s untimely death.