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Weekly Contest #313
The ground always smells musty when you’re six feet below the surface. As a mortuus actor, or a professional death artist, Tornicasa had grown accustomed to the feeling of being buried alive. The dampness of the mounds of dirt pilled above him were kept at bay by the warmth and protection of a sturdy coffin. The pitch-black grave provided growing clarity of mind. Tornicasa wished that one day he could partake in the final sleep of death but, for the time being, his purgatorial prison allowed him no peace.Living remained harder than dying. Th...
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