As you spoke to her you began to realise she already knew she was dead. That was a relief - usually when you meet a haint they plain refuse to admit they are anything other than as alive as you are, no matter which limbs they trail behind them or even if they're carrying their own head like a baby. Absolute pains to deal with, they are.
This one was almost refreshing. A haint who knew she was dead, who admitted that yes, she was carrying her innards in a leaking paper shopping bag and thankfully had no intentions of staying any longer than she absolutely had do. So all you had to do was help her find her last living relation and get them to place some flowers on her grave so she didn't feel so forgotten.
Easier said than done, even in such a tiny town but at the end of it some flowers were placed and she kept her word. As quickly as you'd first spotted her weaving her way through oncoming traffic, she left. It was like she just chose to not exist and if any other haint was so easy to deal with you'd damned well be out of a job.
With her gone to rest you knew you'd soon have to move onto the next town and the next haint but for now, you were a simple tourist in a quaint little mountainside town. You were normal, the town was normal and if there just so happened to be a group of mutilated children running towards you begging for help then you'd just have to stay another day or two.
The devil sure loves to make work for idle thumbs.
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