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Prose Nocturnes: Summer Hire, Too
"Time for lunch," the boss shouted ten feet down the manhole, where I (newest to the crew) had been dispatched to measure the sewage channel, and as his voice )somehow a little to loud and eager) resonated, someone pulled the manhole cover over me, leaving me in total darkness. I heard the crew wagon pull away, and briefly, silence surrounded me until whisps of sticky silken strands have begun to fly at my face, and, in that total darkness, eight red and feral eyes glower like hot embers at me.
