The streets were black and white, pitch black in some spots and brightly lit in the other. Pedestrians huddled in their coats looked down, trying not to be noticed. The occasional car passed through, along with low grunts and high pitched laughter. The streets were merciless. In the darkness, the innocent try to hide. In the light, the impure enjoyed the pleasures of the world. It was in this setting goblins were born, little innocent and evil creatures who fed on the scraps.

On one side of the road was Saint Henry's Church. The muffled laughter of old men and the cries of children cut short were heard. In the graveyard, with the light from the church and hidden in its shadow, repeated sounds of grave digging could be heard. Shhnnk, fffffp. A shirtless man with shades askew could be seen. Beside his feet laid his dirt crusted captain's hat.

"Shiny trinkets," coarsely squeaked the man as he rubbed something in his hands. His eyes shined with innocent pleasure. "I had to bribe that stupid Daniel Lafferty for this." His actions suggested simple and petty evil. Under the light of the Church, one could see a hunched figure trying to hide the trinkets he found.

A man wearing a blue-collared shirt huffed as he approached a bench. It was around 4:20pm when he took some crumpled bills and handed it to a shadowed stranger in a suit.

The same man wore a suit as he sat on a desk. "You better deliver that god damned Miss Emma!" He shouted to the mouthpiece of his candlestick phone. 

The same man with white hair and a hunched back looked through the balcony windows of his skyscraper. The wind ruffled his hair as he looked to the beach. "Number One, kill him... but give him the pearls," the old man whispered in a soft voice. "Yes, sir," answered Number One.

Number One cried bitterly as he wiped snot from his nose. He was already known for another name now, but he always allowed himself that first nickname. He looked to his master's mausoleum nestled beside the hill. It would be the last time he visited Elmwood Cemetery. 

A man sat against a mausoleum nestled beside a hill. There were vines through its chipped stone. Fallen leaves rustled as another man in a muddy dark cloak trudged towards him. "Here they are, boss," he grunted as he showed a handful of cobwebbed and dusty necklaces. "Thanks, Number One." He nodded to him. "We've probably robbed a hundred graves now," he thought to himself.

Nobody survives the streets. The weak are oppressed, but the powerful eventually die. The goblins defile them all, but joins them in the end.

Shots rang out from a radio. A man looked up from the grave he had been digging, and he wiped his face with his muddy hands. He looked to the radio and listened. A reporter was speaking.

"Shots had been ringing out all day. Seattle had fallen, and Detroit and Chicago in the afternoon. I am in Chicago right now. Smoke rises behind a few buildings.  Glass shards cover the streets from the broken window of stores. The locals had been saying how a don was wary of being next. He started the war... and lost. The police told us how an alliance of crime families weren't really planning anything until it happened. The same alliance massacred the next two cities." Shot rang out from the radio. "Just a few more men are fighting back, according to the local police officers. They told us..."

Shhhnk. Ffffp. To the man, the sounds from the radio slowly faded. He had resumed digging. He might have admired Russo and the few men and women left with him. However, it was just the way of things for him. Graves would be filled, and he needed a grave to rob.

Ssshnk. Ffffp. The ground started rumbling. The man lost his balance and got stuck amidst the roots. The roofs tangled him, as if up to pull him down, and make him join the dead. Some dirt fell on the man, and the man had to spit it out. "Earthquake," the man thought to himself as the ground tickled his legs. "Boss, boss," he heard vaguely in the distance. But the man just laid down and waited. He'd die today, or rob another grave tomorrow.

Ssshnk. Ffffp. The man sighed. That was his 150th grave. His bodyguards counted for him. However, he knew that this was only the start. There were some things he had to learn, and grave robbing gave him the time. Once he finished this, his days are numbered. His grave would be the next one to be robbed.

Lillis also shakes and rumbles around in graves, damn so good he is on this and started to dig up another great grave after the famous Hope which were a wealthy grave so he hoped to find some really good stuff in this one, he digged and digged and finally got to the coffin and there when he opened it layed beautiful Hope and seems so relaxed he started to search down below her feets and found some good earnings, he took a deep breath and did a sign of the cross to show respect before he starts to shovel all dirt back over the grave. When he was finished he walked out from the cementry and in his car and drove away.

It was rare to meet another grave goblin. Most of them left when chance presented itself. Graves gave only trinkets that the poor were interested in. However, today was a special day. The man saw another (LillisMolly) and sighed. The other was a beast while digging. The ground seemed to rumble, as if a primordial reptile were reborn in the 20th century. Eventually, the rumbling seemed to stop in a mournful silence. He seemed to find something precious and beautiful as he stared. After a moment, he walked away and rode off.

Shhhnk. Ffffp. The goblin continued digging. He didn't know how many graves he dug at this point, but he would continue. The graves were his starting point and the end. He wasn't willing yet to leave his beginning.

"Fuck," the man cursed as he saw men and women of swirling mist. He heard whispers in the distance and remembered his condition. "Maybe I shouldn't have snorted some snow," he groggily said to himself. There were cases where people were inspired in their drug-induced hallucinations. This was another.

"Yeah, you let them live for sixty days," croaked an old man. "Oh no... no... no..., I sometimes let them live beyond a hundred," another voice whispered.

Other voices joined in, discussing their life as crew leaders and godfather, but our grave goblin shuddered and fell, partly because his body refused to move, but also partly because of a realization. The streets were dangerous. Even the grave goblins had their days numbered.

The man sighed mournfully. He had seen death on the streets in Italy, and even experienced the death of his friends on the streets. However, deaths didn't hit him as badly. Things changed, perhaps because the man had grown up. A whole bloodline was gone.

"Rest in peace, Mixwell."

"Number One," the man called out. The bodyguard held a cigar and lit it for the man. The man blew some shapes into the air and sighed contentedly. "Sometimes, I really just want to give up," he said. Many had gone on, but the man stayed. Still the man was satisfied. He had adopted a rather fatalistic view as he robbed graves. However, right now, he was contented. 

Once the man finished puffing his cigar, the bodyguard got a bottle of whiskey and glass from his duffel bag. He poured some for the man, and the man received it. The man took a swig, and his body shuddered for a bit. "Cigars and whiskey," he mumbled to himself. "Las Vegas Cigars and Whiskey," he whispered again, savoring the tone.

The man visited a grave in Chicago. The tombstone was cracked, and vines grew around it. The grass was overgrown such that the name was hard to see. This was the fate of those dishonorably discharged. However, even if he had robbed hundreds of graves, the man wouldn't rob this one. "Rest in peace, the man."

The man was with another today. The new guy had bright eyes, no doubt a newcomer to the streets. The man liked his curiosity and enthusiasm. He said to the man, "I usually just tip the undertaker, if I want to rob a free grave. In your case though, you'd have to try every single one." The man cackled. He had already made some money when he started grave robbing. He was here due to stubbornness, to learn more things out of people's eyes, and maybe to find something. Shhhnk. Ffffp. Just another day near the graves.

It was the weekends. The man took a rare break for the movies today. It was, after all, a hyped up movie. The goblin put on his shades and hat, and went to the show. His bodyguards trailed him as they were being treated by the man. The man was many things. He was slow, but he was generous. They all took their seats while holding their popcorn and drinks. And then the watched.

As the credits rolled, the man looked again to the movie. He liked it, but didn't like it as he thought he would. There were many who lived when, in reality, there were more who died. He sighed. Grave robbing had made him different. He wouldn't look at movies in the same way again. His bodyguards trailed him as he left.

The man and his bodyguards looked to the table. There was one massive bowl in the center. Rice was heaped on it like a mountain. Beef was spread around it and intermixed. Number One grabbed one of the sauces, one in a size of a bucket, and poured it over everything. Each of the people took huge bowls to themselves. The man scooped one mountainous serving, and started eating. The bodyguards followed along.

"Well, this is one way to simulate a new corpse," the man said to himself as he laid down sluggishly on his chair. His stomach was aching. He wanted to puke. And he wanted to shit. Death could be gory and disgusting. But the man thought people sought to make their life the best before it approached.

The man drew his gun and pointed it at the back of someone's head. He sighed. The man wasn't only digging graves. He had put quite a few there already. The man clicked his gun, and-

A bodyguard had knocked him down. The bodyguard started beating the man, out of anger and nervousness. He had almost noticed it too late. After beating the man to an unrecognizable pulp, he took his boss, and ran away.

The man laid in his own puddle of blood. He spit out some blood from his mouth and sighed. He wasn't afraid of death, not this time. It was just that he had to chase down the man again. "I hope someone doesn't get him before me," he muttered to himself.

This grave goblin really took out their lifes, its a tuf job to dig so much and hope many understand this now how easy it is to dig and then die if not taking rest between the graves you search for gold in.

He continued to look after great graves to showel dirt from to collect what theer was keft to take, it wasnt to hard work since already digged graved and then the dirt has been showeled over so are the ground easy to get through, it just taks guts to do it, oh yeah!

He know had been digging many graves and had a weird feeling that all the last one just had exact the same amount of cash laying in the exact same spot, just between the legs nearest the feets, seems like it was the same killer on all of this or that someone trying to do a prank with grave-diggers.

He hoped that the next didnt were the sam, if so he should be very afraid and perhaps in need af a vacation or something. He runs into the town to get some booze inside so those thoughts were stopped, a grave-digger cant be supersticious.

Leora looked to another man digging at the graves. When she saw the bunch of 100-dollar bills he picked up, she laughed. She had been digging up the same these days, and was really expecting the same. She shook her head and looked to her own grave. Ssshk. Thhnk. A mountainous pile of dirt was suddenly thrown beside her. (Leora had quite a bit of strength.) "It looked like there were many grave goblins these days," she murmured.

Furious_Wolf had one very tarnge thing when he digged for money in graves, each time he opened a coffin he also after finding and collectiong the cash used to take of the cictims shoes and carried those home and outs them in a room filled with shelfes.

Some grave-digger were for sure a very strange beings which had some nasty things for them while doing this horrible work.

He had just getting a new pair of felame-shoes, this was a pair og high-heeled ones used for party.

Leora had acted too much like a queen recently. She had never actually searched a grave on her own, only to waste her time on it to find nothing. She had always bribed undertakers so that she could save time (but not quite money.) So, here she was, digging graves only to find nothing. However, she had found the trick to it. She thought digging graves were too tiresome and time consuming, but she only had to angle the shovel correctly. Ssshnnk. Fffffp.