The severed head had lain there so long, no one even acknowledged it any more. There was no one left to ask what it was, or how long it had been there, or why no one had moved it, because everyone knew. And because they knew, they ignored it. In this way, they blocked it out. They pushed it to the far reaches of their minds until it was all but invisible. It was just another object to walk around, like a table, or a bench, or a tree. It had to be this way; they fundamentally understood this. For to look at it would be to acknowledge it. To acknowledge it would be to name it. To name it would give it power. And when it once again had power… It would be their destruction.