Flash Fiction
The Gravedigger
by
Eddie French
Here they come.
I'd better get out of the way. They don't want to be seein' no digger about the place, no, not at this time they don't. Bit early for lunch but what the hell. I can keep an eye on 'em from up by the old oak tree. They'll be away soon enough and then I can get done.
Bloody back's acting up again this morning. Wonder if there's any of that rubbin' liniment left back home?
Not many of 'em come to see this one off.
Who is it then? Let's see. Hmmm...Plot 314.....Joseph Vaugn O'Farrell, aged forty-five.
That must be his wife being helped up the driveway. Taking it badly eh? Maybe he wasn't insured. Naw...she'd have a face like thunder if it was the money, no...she's gonna miss 'im alright. Wonder what happened to 'im then, 'im bein' only forty-five.
What's on these sandwiches then. Bugger..cheese and onion again. Must see Catherine about gettin' some of that tuna fish for next week.
That'll be the son there helpin' her to the grave. Looks like he's ready for home already. Nice coat, nice shoes. Come down from the city for the day, just to bury 'is dad.
Two daughters by the look of it. The one behind will be the son's wife. She looks pissed off too. Just plain old ordinary Joseph Vaugn O'Farrell for a father-in-law.
He's wasn't one of the boys then, no tricolor over the coffin, no black masks, no shots over the grave today.
A quiet affair then, no bloody helicopters flyin' over all mornin' disturbin' the peace.
Wonder what he did, before?
He was no bloody yuppie that's for sure.
Bloody hell..tea's lukewarm. I'll ask Catherine for a new flask this Saturday.
The son looks like he does alright, though. He's the busy type, really busy, lookin' at 'is watch already.
But the dad...... Cheap coffin, one car, not a shipyard worker, Catholic. Unemployed by the look if it. Best out of it if you ask me.
Girls will be gone soon, get married off and move away from this hell hole. There's no help comin' from the son either. Pity the poor widow. If she doesn't get burned out by the heathens she'll be back under my shovel within two years.
Yep, I reckon I'll be seein' her soon enough.
Town's gone to the dogs.
Startin' to rain. Father Clancy'll not keep us too long then.
My back's achin' like hell already.
I'm gonna need that rubbin' liniment tonight.
####
Born in Garston, a sub district of Liverpool England, Eddie French began writing at the age of nine. After walking out of school, at fifteen, he found work in a local factory then joined the British Army. His five years of duty included a tour of the far east and a two-year tour of Northern Ireland, then he took up life as a civilian.
After catching up on a lost education by attending college and then a HNC course at Liverpool University, he picked up his writing career where he had left it so long ago.
He now works as a manager for a civil engineering company and is in the process of gaining his Visual Basic Computer Programming qualifications at Mid Cheshire College, England.
You can contact him via eddie@efrench.freeserve.co.uk .