20190729

Day 1,787

When the wind is right you can hear singing coming from the drains near the river. When we were younger we'd dare each other to stick our arms through and wait for something to grab them. We were so convinced that someone lived down there and now we're old enough to know better.

Nobody lives down there - they all died thirty odd years back.

They either didn't get the memo or they refused to read it but we've all seen their pale, skinny little faces in the distance. We used to wonder why they never came towards us or tried to open the grate until we caught them coming back to it.

We must have been walking real quiet for them to not notice us all but we sure as hell noticed them dragging an entire stag through the open grate, guts trailing behind it like toilet paper stuck to your shoe. We made sure to hang back and keep low until they'd closed the grate back up again.

Dead as they might be, we didn't fancy our chances at taking them on face to face. I mean, how do you even hurt a ghost and were they even that? There's plenty of fiction to say that ghosts can kill but far less to explain why they'd drag dead meat to their main haunting grounds.

Unless they aren;t fully dead and whatever's left of their bodies still needs to eat.

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