I strongly discourage you from reading Chapter 7 immediately before turning out the lights at night. I may or may not speak from experience.
He was being looked at by a dead man who was seated with his back against a columnlike tree. . . The eyes, staring at the youth, had changed to the dull hue to be seen on the side of a dead fish. The mouth was open. Its red had changed to an appalling yellow. Over the gray skin of the face ran little ants. One was trundling some sort of a bundle along the upper lip.
The youth gave a shriek as he confronted the thing. He was for moments turned to stone before it . He remained staring into the liquid-looking eyes. The dead man and the living man exchanged a long look Then the youth cautiously put one hand behind him and brought it against a tree. Leaning upon this he retreated, step by step, with his face still toward the thing. He feared if he turned his back the body might spring up and steathily pursue him.
Goodnight. Sleep tight. Don’t let the ants, er, I mean bedbugs bite.