Deathbox

Once he was asleep again, they brought him back again, bound him, sealed him in his deathbox, muffled the World from him with a black, black pall.

I always remember hearing infantry men say to us again and again: 'I wouldn't like to go in your deathboxes,' and we always answered: 'And we don't like to walk.'”

Razor's mother hollered and spread her body atop her son's shiny death box. “Why, Lord? Why my chile?!” the woman screamed.

The local militia, led by their 'jack captain, paid their respects by carrying the death-box and by escorting it.