A Snug Little Crypt

I jiggled the tiny brass latch of a carved wooden trinket box resting on the bottom shelf until it popped open with a soft click. Inside was an immaculate cushion of dark green velvet, smelling faintly of cedar and polished wood. Even a tireless phantom needs a proper resting place to quiet his bones after a long day of prowling. I hoisted myself over the carved lip, slid my legs into the snug recess, and settled back against the plush fabric. Folding my hands neatly across my ribcage, I used my toe to tip the lid down until only a sliver of lamplight peeked through.