The Corpse Carrier: Questions from the Coffin

I broke every ancestral rule of the corpse-carrying trade when I carried home a talking corpse on a stormy night. She lay across my back and spoke in my daughter's voice: “Dad, it's so cramped in the coffin.” The next day, everyone in the village said I'd gone mad, because the black coffin was still in the burial ground, while the corpse on my back sat on my doorstep in funeral clothes, combing her hair. Even more terrifying, I realized she combed her hair exactly like my wife, who went missing three years ago.