It is a cold place. A dead place. Surrounded by only the dark, the cold, the nothing... we reach out, encounter only the cold. Only the black. Only the abyss. It is death.
Madness string 470
Every Halloween, my mom would send me to the dead pile to get bones to scatter around the yard for decorations. I never really realized it was weird that we had things called 'dead piles', but there you go.