Epilogue
On a hilltop in a bleak and inhospitable place sits a church, otherworldly, gothic, with many a gravestone littering the grounds. There’s a crash, a curse in the air. Lights alight in the church.
The Vicar, a man of large nosed proportions hurries out, his nightgown flapping in the wind. A wolf howls in the distance and the man crosses himself. He hurries into the graveyard.
A figure, small, silhouetted against the full moon flees, he carries a bag. The Vicar shouts after him but the small man disappears, as does the Vicar as he falls into an open grave.
The Vicar stares at a space, a space where a head should be. To be fair the headless corpse doesn’t stare back.
“My God. They’ve stolen his head...His head is gone. Oh he won’t like this...
The
END 
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