While I was building my first coffin 20 years ago, my cousin was dying from aids, I had no clue at the time but it was strange finishing a coffin then going to a relative's funeral.
Then I built a skeleton on a motorcycle smashed into the driver's side of my car, making good use of my former family car after the ex pulled out infront of a Volvo...then a local kid and his buddy got chased by the Police on the stolen motorcycle, he ran into a parked trailer and died.
Then I needed to find a way to hide the entrance to a slide beginning from my attic to the first floor..."I know, I'll make that area into a closet with a steel clothes rod and clothing hung across it."
Then a short time later a local girl was found hung in her own bedroom closet...suicide.
This is a very small town. Death plays no favorites like an old man once said, "The young, may, the old must."
I was wondering if I was Death's accomplice or at least his artist? Artisan?

The last coffin was given to me. A local school teacher found it in her garage with a dead raccoon and possum in it! The Police thought it might have been used for some mysterious "rituals", they asked me if it was mine? (It did seem sort of familiar somehow?)
It had been made for a homecoming float! Another mysterious "ritual", Homecoming!
Maybe things are just a coincience? Maybe it's my ESP? Whatever it was it sort of made me wonder?

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"My Insanity is well-respected, until they wiggle free and become a stringer for a tabloid"