The living man leaves the light, stretching out his hand toward the waiting corpse. Cold and stiff and terrible it is to touch. The living man’s stomach boils like the raging sea; up into his throat the hot bile comes—but he swallows it down.
Grasping the corpse’s arm, he pulls the dead man out from the dusty shelf, from the dark recess in the wall; he drags the loathsome figure out into the light.
A dreadful, hideous scream escapes the corpse as smoke ascends from its burning flesh. Under the sun, the fiend dissolves into a pile of ash.
Tale Told 