My wife had been acting strange ever since her conference with the church last week. It was to “empower women to revive the traditional Christian household”. It sounded like a bunch of bible thumping nonsense to me, but I stayed respectful to her new belief. I wanted to support her as much as possible without being mixed into that religious phooey myself.

I raised an eyebrow at her buying a six hundred dollar tiller a few days ago, but she said she wanted to get in touch with “God’s creation” and grow beautiful flowers and vegetables. I figured that was a good hobby and let it go, I’d just have to work some extra overtime to cover the expense.

She obsessed over this patch of dirt, watering it morning, noon, and night. Mixing in lime and compost. I told her it might be too much lime, but she said she wanted to dissolve some “impurities” in the ground and that the lime would do the job. I shrugged, not knowing much about gardening, and left her to it.

“Can I fix you a drink?” She asked, wiping the dirt from her brow.

“Oh… sure hunny, that would be nice.” I replied.

I could hear her singing hymns in the kitchen, rattling ice in a whiskey glass. She brought me an old fashion and kissed my forehead.

“You’re not having one?” I asked, taking a sip.

“Oh no, I’m not allowed.” She sat across from me and watched as I drank the entire thing, letting me babble on about work and renovations I wanted to do on the house.

I started to feel lightheaded as I munched on the maraschino cherry. The room began to spin, and my vision blurred.

“Sarah… what… what did you put in the drink?” I tried to stand but fell forward. She didn’t answer, only stood over me singing those damn hymns. Only they sounded much more ominous now.

I crawled maybe a few feet before darkness took me…

Something heavy and wet hit my face, I opened my eyes and tried to move. I couldn’t move my arms, they felt impossibly heavy. I rolled my head to the side and realized in horror that I was buried up to my neck in her garden.

“Sarah… Sarah stop.” I shouted weakly.

“Back to the earth you must go, to atone for your sins. You came from dust and to the dust you shall return.” She sang.

“Sarah, stop. I love you.” I choked, weeping now.

“I am a new creature, reborn in Christ’s image. I cannot be yoked with an unbeliever. The church has already assigned me a new husband.” She replied, coldly.

I kept pleading but it was useless. I could still hear her singing hymns as the soil filled my lungs and silenced my screams.