DARKNESS HELD HIM LIKE A COFFIN

© Dana W. Paxson 2005

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DARKNESS HELD HIM LIKE A COFFIN

1563 4D

Andrew awoke. Deen, standing over his bed, said in a whisper, “Sshhh. Sshhh. Corpos. They’re coming to the house. We’ve got to hide you.”

Then Marra‘s voice came into the room, saying, “Oh, Deen, hurry, I’m afraid they’ll see us.”

Deen said to her, “Easy, Marr, it’s all right.” Andrew‘s legs jerked with pain as the women lugged him to an open recess in the floor and lowered him into a nest of blankets below floor level. His nostrils overflowed with the scent of mingled spices and herbs, enough so that he nearly sneezed. The floorboards dropped quietly into position over his face, a heavy dresser squawked and groaned as it was walked and dragged over his hiding place. Darkness held him like a coffin. Trig, tethered outside, barked louder and louder, almost to the point of frenzy.

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