The Shroud of
by Michael C.
I see a face in the quilt,
as Im about to take a nap. It reminds me of
a 1930s actor, who played a tough guy in gangster
movies. He had a bulbous nose and ruddy cheeks,
too. The bed cover is an old family heirloom, so
I think the face might belong to a relative it
once covered. Maybe its a dead ancestor
come to haunt my dreams. But I dont think
its that, though. Its expression is not
menacing. In fact, it makes me smile, and after a
while I like that its there next to me.
Eventually, I talk to it before I doze off. It
doesnt respond at first, but then it does.
What it says upsets me. Shut up! Im
trying to sleep! Im only trying to be
your friend, I answer.