(This matches neither the theme nor the idea of Will Shetterly’s Splatter (one of the creepiest stories I have ever read) but for some reason, I thought of that story earlier and the idea for this story popped into my brain right after.)
Some of the girls say that you gotta dig the hole beforehand but I find that just a bit too impersonal. Sure, it’s a challenge to go breaking up the ground in an untested location, but it’s worth it to bury them nearby, you know? Not so much with the body dragging. I hate the body dragging. One guy, I actually kept alive until he was right where I wanted to bury him and then I just had to roll him into the hole I dug. That one was pretty cool. He made a lot of noise though, there at the end. I didn’t enjoy that.
I like to dig a hole that matches the size of the guy. Depends on what they’re like though, some of them I jam into the space, others have lots of room around them. Some of them are buried deep, some are pretty shallow. That matches the guy too, it’s not just dependent on how tired I am. Sometimes I start digging and then come back after if I’m too tired, but mostly I just tough it out.
They never tough it out, they all end up begging. It’s pathetic really. You’d think they’d have more guts. They’re all talk though, at least when I find them in the bars. They’re all full of big man talk, like modern day cavemen but bragging about the deals they’ve struck or their running time instead of the creatures they hunted. They zero in and try to impress me – buying into my vulnerable little woman act. I’ve never had one of my targets back away from me, or turn me down, they are so caught up in their own image that they forget to keep themselves safe.
Maybe if they were a little more aware of the world around them, and especially the women in it, they would still be walking around today. Instead though, I get the bank transfer, and they get covered in dirt.