Содержание

The Death Is Not The End

"Oh how dark the night..." - Edwin was singing, while making his way throught the thicket. Sometimes bushes became too dense to go through them, so his old, a little rusty, sword took up the song in its own whistling and crackling voice.
The life of a hermit was a quiet one. No one bothered him since he made a small cabin out of tree branches and leaves in the very heart of the Elder Woods and settled inside. Years passed, the cabin became a little cosy hut, but still no one bothered Edwin. He guessed that all the local hunters, adventurers and others like them were just too careful (or too lazy) to go deep enough into the gloomy-looking forest. He also considered it to be good for his hermit's life.
But now, after ten years of hut-living, bog-fishing and serpent-hunting, he felt himself eager to make a little break. So, now he was making his way towards the southern edge of the forest, where, as he slightly recalled, a small village resided. Just what was its name?.. Ah, yes - Beerhill. Not bad, eh...

Something strange suddenly caught Edwin's eye. Looking at a nearby oak, he stopped,                                                   

beholding a white skeleton, hanging on one of its branches. What a way to die... must be the work of some brigand band around.
Suddenly, a firm crackling voice echoed in his ears:
"What are you looking at so closely? I've always been thinking that a mere skeleton isn't worth such an attention..."
Puzzled about the voice's origin, he looked around, seeing no one nearby. But then, the voice continued:
"Have you lost something? Ah, we often lose something... And sometimes we lose our lives, never to find again..."
Edwin stared at the skeleton in astonishment for a while.
"You speak? Hell, I haven't heard of any speaking skeletons before..."
"Yes, I do. Why? In fact, that's all I'm still able to do - speak, speak, and speak, mostly to myself. Or, maybe, think. Recall... Not much good memories left, though..."
"So, who are... were you? And why are you here?"
"Oh, I don't think that my story would be of interest to you... But if you kindly insist... oh well. Some thirty years ago, my name was Charline..."
Edwin looked somewhat closer at the skeleton, then smiled a little: