The roadside shrines should have been demolished several centuries ago but the creatures they kept at bay were deemed worth the cost. Now whatever they kept at bay has long since gone extinct but they still get paid their bloody dues as regular as clockwork.
There was briefly talk of breaking them down but superstitious locals outnumbered the heartbroken and the fear of the creatures returning outvoted the ones who begged for no more lives to be lost. They had this meeting at least once a year, sometimes twice depending on the aggrieved, and no change was ever made.
At least, not by them and their democracy.
No, change came in the form of an exhausted truck driver trying to make up for lost time and so little sleep that sunlight felt like needles searing into the back of his skull. He didn't notice when he hit the first shrine at all, though it did jolt him somewhat awake as he wondered when they put speedbumps down that road.
The second one was also ignored, another brand new speedbump forcing him to wake up and slap at his face to keep himself in a more conscious state of mind. While he was doing so, he hit the third shrine and pulled over straight after to assess the damage done to his truck and remove any evidence that it had been him.
Much like the shrines, he never saw the creature come hurtling towards him nor did he feel any pain, for whatever that's worth. His death was far calmer, quicker and quieter than the deaths the townsfolk were soon to suffer without the shrine and their dues to keep the creatures at bay.
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