It’s Sunday and we all know what that means! Everyone in the village has gathered to compete in our weekly debate: What does the miasma that drifts in on damp tendrils smell like THIS week?
Suggestions include (so far):
) Candle smoke from a forgotten dim library
) Grandfathers and grandmothers and unwanted candy
) Flowers sewn into burlap and forgotten in an animal’s pen, used as bedding for beasts
) Just regular bog rot… Why does everyone pretend it’s anything else?
Noses high, everybody! It’s a weekly mystery waiting to be solved!