Up on a hill there was an old house and in it lived Abigail, a young lady without a spouse. One day her doorbell rang and she went to the door. There stood an old man, his head to the floor. He appeared scared and weak so she let him come in, for if she didn’t it’d be a sure sin. The old man smiled and gave his thanks, and she said, “Not to worry, there’s no need to thank.”
Abigail and the elder talked for quite a long time. Sharing story after story, and soon drinking wine. The two became very good friends and laughed, and laughed ‘til night came to end.
When the next day dawned, they went for a walk, down at the pond they decided to stop. It was frigid and misty, but they enjoyed the stroll because their friendship was warmer than the wind’s dreadful cold. As they stood in front of the calm, cool pond, Abigail asked, “Where do you come from?” The old man laughed a deep, dark laugh, “I come from the boneyard, the place of last breaths. I am the man, which many name Death.”
The creeping old man then pulled out a knife and slashed Abigail’s throat before she could fright. Her life left instantly, her body grew cold, and the elder’s smile sparkled like gold.
The pond was hungry and the old man knew that Abigail’s corpse would have to go soon. He tied a brick to both of her feet and tossed her away into the deep. As her body sunk into the watery blue, the elder stood there and felt renewed.
Back on the trail the aged man went. Not a worry in mind, no remorse ever meant. He did what had to be done, to the grave his soul belonged.
The elder approached another ol’ house. He rang the doorbell and waited, innocent as a mouse.