Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-27661770-20180102013914/@comment-27661770-20180102213358

"Goddammit, i can't understand you! Do you know how to write?"

He looked at the next grave. The dressmaker, the masochist. Some said she was a killer, too, and turned people into dresses. That, though, was unliely. No blood anywhere.

She'd met her madness upon being attacked by a pet, and finding it... focusing. And pleasurable.

In a...

Way he didn't really want to think about it.

And she'd met her end by the "Butcher Baker". Her diary had indicated that she'd dreamed about that.

John shuddered as he dug. He wasn't sure to feel sorry or console himself with "she died exactly how she wanted".

The coffin this time was stronger, evidently. No breakage.

When he fully uncovered it, he opened it to find a salted corpse, stitched-up with a surprising level of handiwork. A cupcake wrapper was near their mouth, the cupcake probably having rotted away long ago.

He heaved the corpse out, and walked by the third.

He would not like venturing into the Pie family bakery, though there was nobody but the ghosts and the dead there. Everyone kinda feared it.

Mostly on suspicion that the terror residing there had never actually died. Two accomplices, he knew of. He shuddered.

onto the fourth.