(Photo: Amitai Asif)
She didn’t know that where they lived was sacred. She thought all places of sleep were.
“When the body rests, the soul may travel,” her grandfather taught. “The dark makes space for dreams to manifest.”
She never doubted this referred to sleep of various lengths.
Hers, which ended when she woke. Others’, who slept on.
The catacombs were home.
To her.
To them.
One day her grandfather did not wake.
His voice now traveled in her dreams.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: catacomb in 77 words
Na'ama Yehuda 
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