In our local c℮metery, there is a grαve covered by something strange.

against scalpels and shovels. The bars stayed until the body decayed beyond “use,” then were removed, ready for the next terrified family. Standing before that grave now, you’re not just looking at metal. You’re looking at proof that even in death, people were hunted. The cemetery suddenly feels different: less a place of peace, more a battlefield continue reading …