There is an oral legend passed down from generation to generation by a Native American tribe. This is a legend of another tribe, their name long banished from being spoken ever again.
A tribe so evil, they were killed on sight by any other tribe, to protect themselves from the curses and evil cast by the tribe. A story of a skull that causes misfortune, then death, of the possessor of the land it lies on, or under. The skull belonged to the chief of the forbidden tribe.
Their chief, Chief Blood-Hand, was said to consort with dark energies. If one person in the chief's tribe was wronged by another; and if the chief was given a proper sacrifice, usually the blood and/or flesh of the person asking for the skull, the offerings would then offered to to a particular human skull, fire-blackened and engraved with strange symbols.
If the skull accepted, Blood-Hand would perform a certain ritual upon the skull. Should the skull be taken without this ritual performed, or if anyone else other than the chief should attempt the ritual, the skull would bite the thief. The thief would then die on the spot. After the ritual was performed, the skull would be theirs and they would have to bury it on another’s property, usually the afflicter.
The skull would then sprout a dead tree, at any time of the year. A “decrepit, ugly, thin-branched tree would appear on the property”. Once the tree grows, the property owner would have major misfortunes; their crops wilting, their family dying, their houses being destroyed by insects. After all of this, the person who owned the land would die within a week, unless they removed the tree and skull from their property. The skull could be removed by destroying the branches of the tree, then pulling up the shallowly buried skull.
The skull and tree wood would then have to be removed from their property within a week, or else they would be die in "a horrible way". If it was left uncovered; the Burier, as they were known, would have their revenge, and would retrieve the skull and would either be permitted to use it again, after another sacrifice, or return the skull to the chief.
The reason I bring up this old, lost legend because I’ve found the skull, buried in my backyard. If the legend is true, I thought, I can think of some people who deserve death. I buried it in one of our family nemesis’s yard. The “family” consists of lazy, drunken, drug-addicted bachelors. They died by the end of the week, as they were too lazy to dig up an ugly tree in their backyard.
Their guts and bones were everywhere; blood drenched the walls of their living room. It looked like they literally exploded from the inside out. The police were called out, of course, but found no identifiable proof of a killer, nor any explosive residue. It just looked like they spontaneously exploded.
If you have wronged me, you better watch out. I am a Burier now. I will give you a fair warning; you have one week. Live your life... While you can.
- This story is based on a dream I had.Template:Sort