An old wooden sign sits by the road, it's surrounded by tall trees. The broad face speaks bold letters of a horrible pun; 'Welcome to the Land of the Living'. This bold message is dug deep into the sign, glazed with metallic paint to bring attention to the message. Under this sign lies a man, sleeping.
It's night, the air is thin with the chill that it brings, and the moon is masked by clouds. A traveler has set up camp on the boarder of a country, just having left or maybe not having entered, but not in the mood to continue at the moment. A pause in the journey.
With a wave to their friend they head off to get wood from the forest nearby, they're gone. Following good firewood they are lead up to the sign, the sign that they passed earlier or haven't passed yet. A humor filled sound escapes the traveler and draws attention. From the tree line emerges a man, his face filled with greed.
A demand is made and an expectation is met. One lies dead.
An old wooden sign sits by the road, the trees stand taller than it. It's dead face speaks proudly something that doesn't apply to everyone; 'Welcome to the Land of the Living'. Under this sign lies a man, dead.