Little is known about the small patch of land at the bottom of the old quaint village road behind our house, cept that no one ventures there after dark.
There are rumours, well then there always are in a small village. “be careful of her, she’s a witch”, or “he is a wife beater” and the like. But this little road, it’s well tended; well except for the unkempt hedges round the plot of land.
You can see the land from my bedroom window. It’s perfect in every way, never a blade of grass out of the place. No trash or dirt to be found.
I asked at school and was told to shut my mouth, don’t ever ask again. “Go there and you’ll die”