They had come to an elaborate grave marked by an imposing statue of a mean-looking woman seated on a pedestal. If you looked real close, under the watery moonlight, you could see that the statue's teeth was bared, and it's fingers splayed like claws.
MADAME VORACIA THORNHILL
(1898-1962)
"Mine is yesterday, I know tomorrow."
-The Egyptian Book of the Dead.
"Pretty creepy", said Mark.
"Creepy and loaded", Rudy said."Mrs. Thornhill was married four times, and all of her husbands were filthy rich. They all died in suspicious ways. John Thornhill-her last husband's brother swore she was a murderess. He broke into the Thornhill Manor one night and shot her dead".
Rudy bent forward, lowering his voice."After he killed her, John Thornhill was sent to a nuthouse. He kept saying his brother's wife wasn't human, that she was some kind of monster".
"Do you think-", Mark's voice broke."Do you think it was true?"
"The guy was insane, dummy", Rudy grinned, reaching for the shovel."But ya gotta love 'im because what a gift he left for us!" He dug into the ground, pulling up a mound of moist earh."Now hold that flashlight steady"
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Next part up on Friday. Please vote and follow me. I follow back.
