That same night, unable to contain myself, I ran home, my heart pounding. I opened the old wooden closet and, with trembling hands, rummaged through every compartment. Finally, in the lowest corner, I found a metal box locked with a padlock.
I was about to open it when suddenly—bam!—the closet door swung sharply, and something black, foul-smelling, and rotten fell on me. I recoiled in horror as the stench hit me straight in the nose. In the dim light, I was paralyzed when I realized they weren’t documents or money… but dec0mp0sing hu.m.an re.m.ai.ns, wrapped in an old, torn burial cloth.
