Talk:Medium/@comment-112.198.77.42-20150316063053

The girl flattened her black dress, and knelt down in front of the gravestone. It was her friend's. He had died yesterday. She had refused to believe the rumours stating that he had committed suicide. He was a happy man. She knew that most of all.

She touches the gravestone, and bitterly, she asks: "Who did this to you?"

For a moment, time seems to stop. The wind stops blowing. Not even a cricket can be heard. But then the moment is gone as fast as it came. The girl sighs, thinking it was nothing. She stands up, re-flattens her dress (although there are no creases), and starts to walk away.

But then there is a voice in her head, whispering the name of a man. A man her parents had wanted her to avoid. "The Man with the Knives", they said. And for some reason, she feels inclined to believe the voice. When she leaves, she doesn't take the path to her home.

The next day, there is a death.

The man glares at her, eyes dark, as the noose is tied on his neck. He gave no defense, and everyone had voted for him to be lynched. She still feels his eyes on her even as he dies, gasping at his throat. Yet, she feels no remorse.

She comes back to the graveyard that night, and kneels down on the same gravestone. "Thank you," she says, not really expecting an answer.

However, she is defied. The voice in her head laughs, and she thinks it sounds quite familiar. "No problem, my friend."