The Funeral Style

The Funeral Style

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WpMetadataReadComplete Fri, Jun 14, 20195h 5m
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Fiction
Mystery
"If they aren't pretty when they are dead, then why bother keeping the bodies in my cemetery? Just burn them. Burn all of them, and give me the charming ones." I laughed at how psychotic he sounded; or even how psychotic he was."You're young, why do you even own your own cemetery? That can't even be legal." "Why bother concerning yourself over my affairs? This cemetery-" he quickly corrected himself, "My cemetery is the most luxurious and ravishing of them all." He bent down, and began to whisper in my ear, "And I know, that you, my lamb, understand my funeral style, don't you?"
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The Monster: I am the darkness that stalks you, the whisper you hear in the dead of night, the monster that hides beneath your bed. You've always belonged to me. You can run, but I live for the chase. You can beg me to leave, but I know you crave the terror. The Haunted: I feel him-death-lurking at every corner. I'm trapped in his world. I don't recognize myself anymore, with him always by my side, whispering, watching, waiting for me to fall into his shadows. And I can't escape him. Not when I crave him. Unedited♡

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