Skull by jaw by rib by spine, they were nestled tight as cordwood in a maze of paupers’ pits that stretched out from below the building, under the streets of Madison Square, and beneath the walkways of its pleasant, manicured park. Time and progress had caused these unfortunate souls to be forgotten, but their restless echoes had lived on, rising up through the cobblestones and pavers, serving as ghostly ether, provoking fear and dark thoughts. This is what happens when the dead don’t get their due. This is what happens when the past is ignored.
