Substratum (Part 2)

“This is too much work. They don’t even own that cemetery,” I said.

The man shook his head. He said that it was a lost cause. The house never opened except at night when the group entered the gate when the moon told them so. It was opened by a boy who was always wearing a straw hat. When we asked why it was particularly a native hat, he said that it could be baseball cap or a feather hat and it didn’t matter. The boy who followed orders never spoke to anyone. In the evening when the lampposts lit up and the street had a lone vendor selling duck eggs, the group passed through the gate that was closed immediately afterward.