“LORD, HE IS COLD. WHERE AM I? HE WONDERS. Suspended in ice. His eyes come into focus. The moon, that’s the moon. Crescent and new; high in the sky. Why so cold? Sensation creeps back into his body as he comes to, and with it comes the shivering. He trembles and shakes uncontrollably. It can’t be hell. Too cold. Besides, the moon is there, and surely there’s no moon in hell? Stiff and trembling, he propels himself upright. Bonfires dance in his head, and he cries out with the pain. He reaches up... to his scalp and finds a lump. Dried blood. He’s hurt. Why? How? He sits upright, knees drawn up to his chin. He realizes that he is naked. His skin is pocked with goose pimples, and all the hair on his body stands stiffly to attention. His head is throbbing unbearably, and the relentless chattering of his teeth makes the pain worse. Sleepy. That’s it. His head drops down to his chest. If he sleeps, perhaps he will wake up in his own bedroom under the eaves at the Birchs’ house. He will wake, as usual with the oystercatcher’s morning call.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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