“The cemetery spread along the area known as Devil’s Abode.”
It’s where they used to bury the inmates that spent their life in prison or were sentenced to the chair. The townsfolk didn’t want their ‘untainted’ souls mixed with the stained ones, so they plotted out another graveyard. They don’t bury anyone in the Devil’s Abode now, since the Civil Rights issues. It’s been all but abandoned out there.
I went to see it one time. Curiosity got the best of me, I guess. I was surprised it hadn’t become a tourist attraction. I walked past the cracked headstones and dying trees trying to make out the faded names, when I came across a well-dressed man sitting on top of a slab, smoking a Camel.
“Good afternoon,” I said to him, with a nod.
He nodded back.
After a moment, curiosity conquered again. “What are you doing around these parts?” I asked, trying to not sound rude.
After puffing out a cloud of smoke, he answered, “Business,” as he tapped the ashes onto the ground.