If no-one sees then no harm will come.
The girl repeated this mantra to herself as her shovel tilled the earth until it hit the bedrock and stone with scrapy taps. That was deep enough to hide the contents of grandmother’s loft. A reluctant agreement to a dying wish.
She tossed the sorrowful bundles she brought into the pit. From the back seat of a car into a fresh gutter. Dozens swaddled in blankets and their faces shrouded to keep them secret from the gods and men.
She gathered the final armful to cast down, but one fell loose. Its porcelain face white under the moonglow. She shielded her countenance with her hand and kicked the toy blind into the shallow grave. She piled upon layers of earth until soil entombed its empty glass eyes.
On the ride home all she could think about was whether the doll would remember her face.
Chalk Snow 