“If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well It were done quickly” ~ Macbeth, Act I, scene vii
August 28, 2015
He woke in a cold sweat, panting. The shadows of the room whispered and moved around him, reaching but not touching. Shaking violently, he shivered. The walls shook in unison, the ceiling cracked, dust of plaster dropping on his twisted counterpane. He didn’t dare move until it passed, or the tremors got worse. When they stilled slightly, his hand crept to his cellphone that lay on the bedside table. Hardly shifting in the bed, he scrabbled at it, searching quickly for the number he needed. It rang a few times before a bleary voice answered.
“It’s me,” he muttered. “It won’t stop! What do I…
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