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Edgar finishes hacking away at the bottom of the final cross, the bodies not presently there, and lifts the ax, throwing it into the ground. It lodges at the blade and rests there, its work done, its purpose fulfilled. He steps to the side as the cross falls and snaps at the places he had damaged it, the wood creaking and snapping like brittle bones of terror.

 

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He throws his hands out, spreading about fertilizer and bone meals. He takes a knee before a seemingly rapidly growing tree, folding his head, and speaking aloud to himself.

 

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"From one death comes life. All things are intertwined. Everyone deserves a burial. Everyone deserves a final home. These crosses aren't fit for my worst enemy, let alone, a child of Three. I'd never shame someone with actions so vile. The air is for the living- not for the dead."

 

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He rises to his feet as the logs burn a sweet scent, petals thrown on their tops, and all manner of insects come. Varied colors of orange, yellow, and red arrive, butterflies and ladybugs dance amidst sparks and brush a like. A few birds settle a top the new trees, making homes. Where crosses once carried dead men...

 

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... their ashes carry life a new.

 

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"Huzzah!"

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