Content warning: death mention
Piles of bones kept appearing on my doorstep. Not animal bones, either, but people bones.
At first, I’d thought the bones a threat. I lived alone and far away, after all. A perfect target for the ire of nearby villagers. Not one to be cowed, I’d nailed skull and rib cage to the walls of my house.
But you’d continued bringing them.
Bones only appeared with the news of a local’s death. I suspect you’d clean them, but wanted more memorial than mere burial.
So I kept nailing them up. And between us, we built a shrine to the dead.
I’d beat you.
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