Lucy inhaled the smoke-filled golden air with delight, looking down the long wide tree-lined boulevard. Three rows of tall trees ran down its length, two on each side and one right in the middle, on a wide grassy strip with a canal, dividing the flow of traffic. Roses and rhododendrons flowered on the grassy strip, creating a long garden right in the middle of the road, with a never-ending stream of cars on either side. The trees hid a dazzling array of shops lining the sidewalks, international brands, Versace and Dior, local souvenir shops, restaurants and coffeeshops. It was a world apart from her hometown back in North America.

Lucy crossed the boulevard and started walking down the flowering strip of grass in the middle of the boulevard, which was quieter. Her feet ached and her senses were overwhelmed from the morning spent in splendid ancient sites, stretching back further in history than anything she had ever seen. The scent of roses overlay the exhaust fumes, the water in the canal softened the urban screech, and the grass felt cooler beneath her feet. The leaves dulled the glare of the midday sun and tempered the heat. She shook her head, noticing for the first time the dark shapes hanging from the branches. Probably some local custom, flags maybe, mourning some martyr- she had noticed the large swaths of cloth hanging everywhere, with elaborate writing printed on it.

As she drew closer, she realised the shapes in the trees were heavier and not the right shape for flags. She was hesitant to go up – the rose bushes and rhododendrons were very large and thorny, blocking her path. The cries of people and honking rose above the sound of the water, and the shapes moved slightly in the midday stillness. A beautiful man leaning against a tree looked at her and smiled.

“Don’t be afraid Lucy,” he said in perfect English. “They’re dead- they can’t harm you. You like a guided tour? For reasonable price. Few dollars- much better than tour company.” He stepped closer to her.

Lucy looked at the hanging corpses, then back at the man. “I- I – don’t -” She felt battered by stupidity.

“Allow me to explain, Lucy. These are the corpses of people who kill themselves. People are not allowed to kill themselves in our country. We hang them here when they do. Don’t look sad! You are beautiful lady, I can show you very beautiful necklaces, look wonderful on your beautiful white neck, good price, just few dollars. Come, come.”

The corpse closest to Lucy had died by fire. Burnt skin and flesh glistened on her face and her body, the wraps falling off her shoulder, her hair burnt off and the skin on her scalp puckered and raw. One side of her face was undamaged, the skin smooth.

The corpse twitched.

Lucy turned, screamed and ran, trying to find her way back, back, back to where she had come from.