Many fanthomatic years ago I perished in the very threshold of a morgue I was running.
I was more accustumed with the undead rather then the livings. They were easier to comprehend.
Except for Mathilda. She, despite being my second cousin from my mother's side, was the reason my heart was beating.
When she died from tuberculosis I couldn't recover, as I kowtwed by her tomb I felt anything but sadness.
I was in despair, "How could I not drow myself in misery? How was my heart still without sorrow?"
I couldn't fathom a reason why, so I sank in a loophole of questions without answers.
That was when I decided to stop wandering by the world of the living and start analysing the dead instead.
Trying to find out why I couldn't feel sorrow.
That's when I fell in depression.
That's when I opened my morgue.
The one where I lived and died.
The one where it'll soon change my life and my death.
The place where I met Wilton.
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So Sorry Suppress Suffering
ParanormalWalter Silvan is an 84 years old man who had runs a morgue, when one day he suddenly passes away after several years of depression, he wakes up and finds himself in a new young body. Who will he encounter in this after-death experience?
