Burial
The crunch of the snow as I stepped my left foot off of the porch, triggered an uneasiness as reality set in. My second step, with the frigid air caressing my cheeks, gave me the boldness to do what I had to do. The ground was frozen, but I knew there would be a soft spot out in the woods beyond the fence where the snow wasn’t thick and the ground remained warmed by the hot springs. This wouldn’t be the first body I’d buried, but it would be the first of my kin. If she had only listened to me when I told her not to get me angry. She has always known my temper was nothing to be trifled with. I can be as bitter as this white, cold, frost covering the ground around us. But she went too far; she pressed the right, or maybe the wrong buttons, and I cracked. It only took one backhanded slap. Now my sister lay lifeless on the ground, frozen. The stiffness made dragging her body through the snow easy, but it made getting her over the fence difficult. It took me longer than it should have and the sun was starting to rise. As I pulled her along, our childhood flashed through my mind. The events that led to my anger were a direct result of how we were raised. It was her fault. She knew better. To me she was just another body. Just another parcel of our land.