Day 633

The hotel "Lit de Mort"was one of the most famous in the world. Tucked away on the mountainside town of Calderton and surrounded by redwood trees it was the very picture of picturesque with one of the largest graveyards in the country. There was truly nowhere else like it - nowhere dared to be like it.

Few people outside of the state even knew it existed but hotels all over the world envied and loathed it in equal measure. Where else can you spend the night in a mausoleum of your very own? The size varies of course, from single coffin to multi-level subterranean suites. For a price you can even have your family's name carved into a marble plaque as a souvenir.

The "Lit de Mort" was always expanding, renovating and removing their rooms and the alleged disappearances only served to fuel the fascination that kept them in business. Nobody really questioned it,too busy admiring their surroundings and the kitschy-morbid decór in their personalised deathbeds.

There are sometimes complaints from particularly religious visitors, claiming the whole thing is sacrilege and demanding a refund at the very least. Or those who come back saying they spent their night (or nights) in torment from unseen things that laugh and call their name. Or those who don't come back at all.

Of course the staff were suspects in many cases and their generally shifty demeanor didn't help (though for appearance's sake they were required to play the part of supernaturally-fearful-local). If word got out about a new disappearance, as it often did, it only led to more visitors. Some came just to stay in rooms where people had last been seen, where they had potentially spent their final hours alive.

A few suspected that the town was in on it but they couldn't begin to guess the extent. It was more than the town, it was a network of them. All joined by subterranean tunnels, some of which went right underneath the "Lit de Mort", linking every mausoleum to one gigantic chamber beneath the epicentre of this alliance.

The missing were always within arm's reach and the rest of the country was none the wiser. they became integral parts of the community, feeding plant and person alike in varying states of mulch and recomposition. The mountainous area was very well known for their rare type of pig.

As the tourism board says: There's no taste like it, there's no place like it.