Another creepy thing we did before it was cool.
Context. Is everything.
There is a trope in the tradition of Hungarian folk ballads known as "the woman who murdered her husband" (yeah, we are a cheerful bunch). The most recognizable image of these stories is the guilty woman trying to scrub the blood out of her sheets. In some versions she had killed her husband herself; in others, her lover did. In either case, she is noticed by other people, who ask her where the blood came from. She lies (claiming she accidentally soiled it with chicken blood), but eventually gets arrested and tired for murder.
You can read the full English translation of the ballad here.
Maybe we should start a Hungarian Horror Story series.
Maybe that will be my A to Z theme next year.