This place no longer exists.
At one time, it was the final resting stop for the dead of Cross.
Cross has a strange memory. At times it can recall with infinite detail, the wonders and horrors of its own past. Rarely does it choose to remember those things and entities which were a fine mixture of the two.
Such was Black’s Funeral Home.
Samuel Black built his funeral home from rocks hewn from the rolling hills in Gods’ Hollow. He carved them himself, fitted each, and used mortar that he mixed with the blood and flesh of innocents. Few knew of this, however. Nor did any know that he did not deliver their deceased loved ones to the cemeteries for internment.
Samuel was feeding the flesh to the creatures he brought with him from the Hollow. They lived within the stone, and it pleased him to please them. So it was that he charged little to provide funeral services. Many people went to him because they could afford to go to no other.
Samuel welcome them all with open and loving arms.
His services were the finest. The deceased person always looked exceptional, regardless of their manner of death. No faith was turned away, no loved one made to feel uncomfortable.
In 1955, I discovered what Samuel was up to. I confronted him about the creatures that were his house, and I asked him how they had gotten there. He sensed in me a kindred spirit and laid his heart open to me. When I heard the story, I nodded, smiled, and choked him to death.
I gave his house one last meal, and then I destroyed it too.
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