Brydie Comiskey

Little Grave Robber

Well, Stumpy Sheen sat barefooted and sun-kissed under the weeping willow in Tullamore cemetery for the 5th day in a row. The child had a novel in one hand, and a pink lady apple in the other, a lost look crossing her youthful features. Children walking by the cemetery grated sticks against the iron pickets that separated themselves from Stumpy and the land of the dead, rarely sparing a glance at the weird girl, alone, on the wrong side of the fence.