Carefully she plies the rows upon rows of potential victims, limping beneath the shadow of the twisted water oak. Quietly whispering to her partner, the Gravedigger Grandpa Methuselah, they weave between the headstones .. the moist earth squelching beneath their naked toes.
A curse here and a prayer there, her soothsaying and healing hands are often a distraction, a ploy. Luring her victims to a biting blade, and a swift end. Leaving a thick trail of wandering souls ….
