Grandmother (part 1)

Adam Beaumont dragged the heavy bundle down the stairwell in
a constant sweat. But for two hours ago, he had been sat in the
lounge of the semi-detached house, listening to his grandmother
calling him weak, a no-good loser. The bickering hadn't stopped,
until he felt the twine tighten around her scrawny neck. In the last
few bitter moments of her miserable life, she still attempted to get
the final word in.
Still...That was ancient history now. He had finally done it at last.
No more nagging. No more asthmatic heavy breathing. No more
asking him to wash out the bedpan or the sheets. At last, he felt a
spark of hope ignited within him.
He was free.

Reaching behind him he found the door handle, he twisted it hard,
as sometimes it would stick. He pulled the backdoor open into a
bright moonlit night. Shadows skirted the perimeter yard around
the property. It took several seconds for him to bring the outside
world into focus.
The head under the sheet thumped onto the ground, as the body
was pulled over the doorstep. He laughed at that. He wished the
opportunity had been there before, to knock her head into the dirt.
To be able to slap some sense into the old buzzard
As he dragged the body by its ankles into the yard, a bloody left
arm emerged from under the sheet in which it was wrapped. Just
then, he heard a rustling sound come from his right. There, a red
rose bush quivered. There, movement again. He had stopped in
what he was doing, and was now staring at the bush intently.
More movement. Just as the neighbour's pet cat hurled itself out
from the shrub with a mouse, or stoat, some kind of rodent, firm
within its jaws.
He heaved a sigh of relief.
.
Before this night, he had been weak. A loser. But now, cast deep
within the moons spotlight, he felt the strength of a thousand men
coursing through his veins. He felt a new lease on life beginning. A
life free from critisism and pain.
The scuffing noise made by his shoes shuffling on the gravel of the
driveway didn't bother him. He was nearly at the boot of the car
now anyway.
He fumbled for his keys to open the boot of the car, resting the
shrouded legs against he bumper. The door opened up with a high
pitched squeak. He looked around the side of the car, out into the
lamplit street. Nobody there. He grunted, as the strain from lifting
the body made his back click.
Once inside the car, he tossed the draped sheet over the corpse,
before closing the lid, carefully. He then returned to the house to
check for any evidence of foul play. Satisfied there was none, he
stepped out, locking the door behind him.

The car journey to the construction site, where he was going to
dispose of the body, was euphoric. The windows down, wind
breezing through his thinning hair, with the radio blasting out the
latest rock music so loud, he could hear a ringing in his ears. It
really is what life should be, he thought to himself.
He had decided on taking her to the construction site, after he
heard someone saying that a new hyper-market was due to be
built there.No-one's going to ever discover the body under all
those tonnes of concrete and steel. So, that seemed the most
obvious choice for the burial.
He thought back to when he had been this happy before:

It was when his mother was still alive, and when grandmother
had a home of her own.
But then, one day, mother announced that grandmother was ill
and so was going to spend some time with them. It turned out
that 'some time' actually meant permanently.
Two years after she had moved in, his mother had died.
She left behind for him, a legacy of a bitching grandmother, as
well as money, the house, and all its contents.
That was when his life of happiness came to an abrupt end.
His grandmother would spend all day in front of the window,
in her woodworm-ridden rocking chair. There, she would wait
for him to return from his work as a bank clerk. Only to start
complaining, as soon as he got through the door.
Where have you been? Why does it take you so long to get in
through the door? Didn't he know that she shouldn't be left in
on her own for too long? A little bit of consideration wouldn't
be too much to ask, would it? Etc...
The list was endless, as was her life, or so it seemed. Then! he
decided one day, that, enough was enough. She'd had a good
innings, but, now it was time for it to end.
No more creaking of her old rocker, or the rings of smoke in
the air above her head. It was those damned cigars that made
it so difficult to breathe. She had said that they kept her ticker
going all these years. But, all that smoking those things did, was
damage her lungs and throat. That's why she had that annoying
coughing noise bellowing out of her decrepit old mouth. It also
gave her that gruff, croaking cackle that always made his skin
crawl.
Still, that was all behind him now. He was on his way to the site,
and that was it. Good riddens, he thought.

As he reached the constuction site, just outside of town, he had
a feeling of remorse come over him. She was family after all. It
had been a bit rash, but, he just couldn't go on living like he was.
She had to go. It was the only way.
He pulled up along-side one of the deep trenches laid out in the
earth, ready for the concrete to be poured in. On the site, there
were a number of ladders scattered about. He dragged one over
to the side of the trench, dropping one end in.
Lifting the body out of the car was a bit of a messy business. The
dark patches on the white sheet outnumbered the light, moistly.
Taking the body over to the trench, he rolled it in, hearing a dull
thump as it hit the bottom. Then went back to the car to fetch a
shovel.
At the bottom of the trench, the soil was relatively loose. A hole
was soon dug into the dirt, the body slipping in nicely, and was
quickly covered up by the small mound of earth waiting at the side
of the hole. He liberally spread out the top soil, leaving no visable
signs of anybody having been there at all.
He exited the trench and took the shovel back to the car. He then
went back to the trench and pulled up the ladder, tossing it to one
side.
Standing, looking down at his grandmother's grave, he said one
last prayer. 'God...I hope you've as much forgiveness and patience
as they say you have...For your sake.'
With that, he got back into his car and pulled away.