Readeroffate

MAY Mallory shivered as she walked up the hill, the knifelike wind easily slicing through the "special' coat that the online seller had swore could stand up to even the harshest of winter weather. It was May in Iceland, a gray and windy one at that. The locals at the inn had cheerfully told them that today would be lovely. If this was a gorgeous day in spring, Mallory was sure that she didn't want to see what it was like during the fall and winter months. Stumbling over a large rock, she took a moment to look out over the landscape. Despite it being cold enough to shatter exposed teeth, Iceland was gorgeous. The sky was as blue as the sea, and far-off mountains supported the heavens above with their eternally snow capped peaks. Fields stretched out towards them and never quite reached their destination, and the cold winds whistled an ancient tune both familiar and unknown. The area, besides the wind, was silent. Not even the most pesky tourist or fame-hungry vlogger dared to combat the

Falling down, earth opens, below light.

She smiles as I loudly drown.

I hate poetry, My hatred has no bounds, Rhyming words like "Floetry", causes headaches to abound, I thought it would be easy, That the words would fly on the page, But it is starting to make me queasy And it's putting me into a rage. I've been reading poetry for over an hour, Screw it, I'm finished, I'm over it, I'm done, I'm going upstairs and take a relaxing shower, And then teach myself how to make buns.

In the early morning darkness of West Virginia, a man was flattening sod onto a freshly-made burial mound. He had been at it since parking his rental truck hours earlier, yet he could see a sliver of the sun's light over the horizon, signaling that time was running out. As he stood back up, Jay stretched his worn-out muscles, wiped the thick paste of sweat off his face, and surveyed his work. Oh, thank God, I put the sod on right," Jay sighed with relief. Stepping away from his work, he started to walk back to the truck, ready to head home. Part of him wanted to collapse in the front seat and sleep for several hours, maybe even the entire day. However, he knew that the moment he relaxed, he would accumulate new problems. A patrolling police officer could catch him loitering, or some mythical do-gooder could show up thinking he was in distress, or worse, the mound could collapse, making him have to rework the entire thing. He groaned at the thought of having to fix and reshape it

I open my eyes to stare at the blank ceiling hanging over my head. I don't know what I expected to be there. It's the same ceiling I've always looked up at in the insane hope that one day it would part to show a blue sky or even a cloudy one, just something different. I slowly sit up in bed, feeling my bones finally start to wake up, and let out little groans as their sleep has been interrupted. I lazily looked around the room, allowing my bones to wake up more. It's the same as it was when I closed my eyes: a shelf full of books with their frayed pages splayed everywhere, a vase full of yellow pansies with their youthful beauty decaying before my eyes, a faded painting hanging on the opposite wall of the bed depicting a romanticized version of the outdoors with a thick layer of dust over it, and a small wardrobe filled with clothes I will never wear. I take a deep breath, slightly choking on the dust in the room. This isn't my room. It's the room of a stranger, one with terrible

So, I just received the body. The only things I knew beforehand were that the deceased was a prominent athlete and that his murderers were sending him to me. I don't know whether they murdered him due to his skills or other unknown reasons, but I don't need to know. However, judging by the stab wound and the third-degree burns, I'm willing to bet it was somewhat personal. Fortunately for them, so long as I get paid, I won't ask questions. And boy, did I get paid this time. Apparently, the people who commissioned me are extremely wealthy since they somehow managed to buy an Amazon truck look alike to deliver the body discreetly, as well as throw in a fat envelope of unmarked bills. And I'm not going to lie, I was slightly impressed. Not only from the fake Amazon truck but how much they gave me. I have enough to pay off the rent, for the materials for this burial, and a bit