The stuff of nightmares is not only relegated to unconscious thoughts upon a pillow, safely beneath an eiderdown.
He pushed a finger through the surface of the water to trace the outline of her mouth. Ethereal bits of flesh floated loosely about his knuckle and nail. Then, calmly, he pulled her body up out of the tub and into his arms. He placed his lips on hers, now as cold and dead as his own.
A Time Comes When Silence is Betrayal.
The Sleepin’ Fox Catches No Poultry.
Do you not recognize me?