When the Embers Turn to Ash
I was no longer recognizable, yet I still managed a faint smile at the camera.
“Today,” I said, “I buried eighteen skeletons. Exile Island was never some romantic place. It’s a graveyard for boys.”
Then, the scene shifted to me sitting beside piles of stark white bones. I wasn’t the only one brought here. There were far too many.
At that point, I paused, then raised my hand and waved at the camera. “Hi, Agnes. Long time no see. I wonder, by the time you see this video, will I already be dead? But even if I am, my body will stay here, just like these bones. So, Agnes, don’t forget to come and collect my corpse.”
Bab Populer