The shared corpses
Back in my childhood, in our agrarian village, my house stood next to the orange storehouse of one of the biggest farmers in town. His orchard was vast, probably the largest in the village, and during harvest season, his storehouse overflowed with freshly picked oranges.
One evening, during one of those harvest seasons, my friend and I hatched a plan. We decided to scale the fence separating my house from the farmer’s storehouse and steal some oranges.
Our mission was a success. We filled a sack with stolen oranges and climbed back over the fence to my side. Now, we needed a quiet place to divide our loot.
The cemetery seemed like the perfect spot. It was nearing dusk, and we figured no one would dare enter the graveyard to disturb us.
Carefully, we slipped through the slightly open gate, making sure not to attract attention. As we squeezed inside, two oranges tumbled out of the sack. We agreed to leave them there and pick them up on our way out.
Inside the cemetery, we emptied the sack and began sharing. I took charge, counting aloud:
"One for you, one for me… one for you, one for me…”
Unbeknownst to us, a well-known village drunkard was staggering past the cemetery on his way from one bar to another. Hearing my voice faintly through the darkness, he froze. His mind, clouded with alcohol, twisted my words into something sinister.
Panic seized him. He thought he had stumbled upon a terrifying sight—angels and Satan dividing the souls of the dead!
Terrified, he bolted straight to the nearby mission house, where the Reverend Father was just about to eat his dinner. Gasping for breath, the drunkard stammered out his discovery.
“Father! The angels and Satan… they are in the cemetery… sharing corpses!”
The priest waved him off. “Nonsense! That’s impossible.”
But the drunkard insisted, begging him to come and see for himself. Reluctantly, the Reverend set aside his meal and followed him toward the cemetery.
As they approached, both men heard my voice drifting through the night air:
"One for you… one for me… one for you… one for me…”
The Reverend froze. His confidence wavered. What if—just what if—the drunkard was right?
Summoning courage, they crept closer to the gate, trying to peer inside and confirm whether it was truly angels and Satan dividing souls or just some mischievous villagers up to no good.
Just as they reached the gate, I finished dividing the oranges. Remembering the two we had left at the entrance, I turned to my friend and said casually:
"Now, let’s take the last two at the gate and share them."
What happened next was chaos.
The Reverend let out a startled cry and took off in one direction. The drunkard screamed and bolted in the other.
We, inside the cemetery, heard the commotion and panicked. Were some of the corpses returning to claim their rightful places?
Without waiting to find out, we abandoned our oranges and sprinted away as fast as our legs could carry us!
It wasn’t until the next Sunday service that the mystery was finally unraveled. Standing at the pulpit, the Reverend Father recounted how God had saved him—and the entire village—from an untimely death at the hands of angels and Satan who had come to the cemetery to share corpses… and nearly shared him along with them!
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