poems by Rachel Green
The king bites (huge maws he has)
Aye! Beware the king in yellow!**An HP Lovecraft 'Cthulu' reference
*sighs* I miss the more sacred days when all was done with man and shovel.
Aye - Old Tom got replaced again
What a sad job - but in a way a consoling job. Do you think they call themselves 'gravediggers' or 'planters' perhaps? Do they work at night with a lamp? Do they turn their faces away from the light of day? (never seen a human near this monster that I can recall)
inhumers?I applied to be a gravedigger once. I was overqualified, apparantly.
It's still done that way at the local church here, Rachel. The mourners, the male ones, did the grave and then fill it in while everyone watches and waits.
That must be cathartic, Gina.
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The king bites (huge maws he has)
Aye! Beware the king in yellow!*
*An HP Lovecraft 'Cthulu' reference
*sighs* I miss the more sacred days when all was done with man and shovel.
Aye - Old Tom got replaced again
What a sad job - but in a way a consoling job.
Do you think they call themselves 'gravediggers' or 'planters' perhaps?
Do they work at night with a lamp? Do they turn their faces away from the light of day? (never seen a human near this monster that I can recall)
inhumers?
I applied to be a gravedigger once. I was overqualified, apparantly.
It's still done that way at the local church here, Rachel. The mourners, the male ones, did the grave and then fill it in while everyone watches and waits.
That must be cathartic, Gina.
Post a Comment