When light began streaking through the windows of the villagers' homes, they tiredly dragged themselves up. For one reason or another, last night had been particularly exhausting. A sense of dread filled the townspeople as they gathered in the square, the wooden structure at its center looming just a bit more oppressively, it felt, than yesterday.
The body in the square, limbs twisted at an odd angle from when she had fallen, was clean. The bullet-hole that ran cleanly though her chest and ended her life was obvious for all to see, but the surrounding area was dry and devoid of blood. For whatever reason, she'd been dumped here instead of killed here. Nobody read into it. It was just another meaningless detail.
The voice rang out again, carrying unnaturally, sounding as though the speaker was standing right next to every one of the gathered townspeople.
"pistachi0n has been killed. She was a
Town Doctor
."
There was no reaction, just the usual acceptance.
Day 3 begins now. It will end in (expired on 2016-04-19 14:04:14)
One man's trash talk is another man's treasure talk.
