As you wander about a garden covered in a foggy haze, smelling the Poppies and roses, the forget-me-nots too, looking at the rusted vehicles and decaying buildings, careful not to step on bones as you skip from one stone tile to the next

The time here is a mystery but despite the eerie nature of this place it’s calm and welcoming, you stumble but little hands catch you, it’s the souls! Souls of many, 622 to be exact. They are running around, playing, some sitting and drawing peacefully, some bouncing around on all fours where masks like animals, some just reading or talking about interests

In the middle of the park three figures are talking, Death, Mother Nature, and Screech Owl

Death is as you expecting, a tall caring skeleton in a cloak with scythe Mother Nature is a beautiful woman covering in bright colors that seems to mock the fall season But who is this Screech fellow? It’s a man with snowy owl wings and legs, soft blue eyes, black hair with blue highlights, and pale skin, he seems to be friendly enough, just a guiding spirit to death’s garden

Screech Owl noticed you first, slowly walking over and crouched down to your height, his was wearing a black button up, jeans, and a blue sweater vest with a pair of converse Screech: ‘ What are you doing here? You don’t look very… soul like? ‘ His blue eyes meet yours, waiting for your response