The man knew the value of hard work. He would do everything. Cut the grass, clean the stones, trim the weeds, rake the leaves, dig the holes, plant the people
The man knew the value of hard work. He would do everything[s].[/s]: [s]C[/s]cut the grass, clean the stones, trim the weeds, rake the leaves, dig the holes, plant the people

Our story starts with a small town, a gigantic graveyard, and a man called Gravedigger Dan.
The town had many, many names. The original one being De Range Creek.
Which was strange in its own right, considering there wasn’t a creek for miles.
It was desolate, rural country as far as the eye could see.
Anyone who took up permanent residence there discovered that the novelty of calling it a ghost town could only be so enjoyable.
The main reason being: there were more dead people in the town than living. Which I thought was just marvelous.
He was an object of curiosity, which was inevitable considering the townsfolk were what most people in small towns were: bored.
You got all that? You’d better remember it. It’s important. It gives you a big idea, see. The nosy and uptight citizens, the eccentric caretakers . . . and Corspeville. All important.
Don’t get your hopes up—she’s boring. At least by my standards. Except for that lovely temper of hers. She’s short, freckly, and always wears a stupid little black cardigan.
No, when she was just eight years old, her mother died.
Well, then her older brother, Charlie, ran away. Without a trace.
Sad story, really. But that’s the way things are, I suppose.
One day you’re making cookies, the next you’re at a funeral.
And not even a funny kind of insane, either.
But then, I discovered, the girl wasn’t as tedious as I’d deduced.