Friday, August 12, 2016
No one noticed the mason jars hanging around the cemetery. If they had, most people would have assumed they were lanterns or even citronella jars to keep away mosquitoes. Every night, Jase checked his traps then transferred the confused souls from the graveyard. Each morning they awoke, jammed into the birdhouses with nine or ten other dazed souls, tethered by string to the perches inside. Their plaintive wails fill the neighbourhood with the sweet song of imprisonment.