Day 588

We make our graves look like the dead.
They are stacked in stone houses on a small island arranged in groups of families.
Over the years we've had to move some around, mix the groups and create new ones.
It seems that even the dead have their preferences.

Almost all of them are accompanied by at least four others except one.
In life he was called Tuomas and owned a small farmstead on the mountainside.
In death he chases any living one he sees and detests the company of the dead.
We reckon he wants to come back to the land of the living.

Ever since his passing we've learnt to listen out for the sound of stone scraping grass as he moves.
He doesn't even care for the laws of the dead that state he can't move then the living are near.
The sea between the island and mainland is the only thing that keeps him there.
Even in death he's scared of it.

Tuomas has become something of a folklore among us now.
We told our children that he'll trap them inside his coffin and eat them if they don't behave.
It worked surprisingly well until we began to find small body parts and pools of blood.
Yesterday we saw a boat made of stone sailing from the beach to the island of the dead.