Malahide, just north of Dublin. Not so long ago.
Long after the house had been disinfected for new occupants and the bodies rested safely in the ground, people still didn't come near it. "Cursed," whispered the neighborhood gossips and nodded meaningfully. "Deadly, a haunted house!" cried the children, but they only ever mustered up the courage to take a step or two into the front yard before losing heart.
Because what Desmond the mailman had been the first to see inside had been unnatural and strange.
-- Darling Jim by Christian Moerk, page 1
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