The glistening intestines that trailed behind the young girl were not hers. The smile on her face and skip in her step didn't sit right with her pinprick-sharp pupils and bend in her neck where the poor child had been hung, likely in an attempt to stave off the possession.
People never listen - especially when their loved ones are involved. Every government broadcast and newspaper for miles around clearly states that in order to minimise casualties the possessed person should be taken to hallowed grounds and be buried up to their necks.
Hanging her only puts her at a mild disadvantage when she could have been incapacitated before she'd fully succumb and begun gathering whatever viscera the demon tells her to. For all she knows, for all it lets her know, everything is fine and she has a handful of ribbons that she's taking to her granny's house.
I watch her pass by, hoping the sheep's blood on my clothes hides me well enough to see tomorrow.
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