The Long Tale No. 26 - The Coffin

The room was void of life, bare-boned and empty. The cramped area made it into a coffin, the sharp corners the nails. The only furnishings were a tiny, barred window and solid wooden door. There was no light but that from the sun, stars and moon. The man sat, back against the wall, as stiff as the stone below him. The walls were straight and seemed to entrap whoever say inside, forbidding their escape with their gravel gaze and twilight skin. No insects dare tread on the flagstone and no birdsong ever reached the occupants' ears. The coffin sat, dead.