His Bed of Dirt Extract

Deep deep down

Harley Holland

There is a man at the bottom of my garden where the trees grow low and the ground seems upturned. He is far below, buried deep, he tells me. I know he’s a man and what he says is true as I listen to him speak. I came across his humming one day while scratching lines into the mud to make small rivers for my toy soldiers. Mother does not let me into the house when her friend comes over. Often I find myself waiting for hours in the cold. It was a day like that did I hear the humming, pleasant at first, coming from the bottom of the garden. Crawling under the scratching twigs I saw where the melody was coming from. I didn’t have my cardigan yet the noise filled me with warmth. It felt like I had heard it in a dream. Sitting down I listened…

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