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Silent Shells

(Continues from Scent of Trouble)

My brain flashed back to the dagger and the dread coiling in my guts sinking me to the rocking floor. It was the only object I could interact with in a physical manner. And I’d chased the creeps looking for it. Could it destroy me?

My cell dropped interrupting my thoughts. Slamming into the ground, it rolled. I bounced around until remembered I was a ghost. I could float, so I did. No harm done though. Cracks tracked up the walls.

Hello daylight my old friend,
I’ve come to talk to you again.
I looked through a crack at the end,
stared at a pile of silent shells.
Matte black to absorb the sound,
with shiny insides to confound.
On them my unlife did depend,
and fates forfend that a friend–
should happen by at the end.

Silence cups my cell,
broken by the knell,
and the crackling of a spell.

Before I could seep through the crack, laughter crawled in and my illusory skin tried to crawl up my backbone. Something foul reached in but I dodged its clawed hand. Steel-tipped fingers gripped a chunk of concrete and ripped it out. Chanting mixed with the shrieks of seagulls and the distant chiming of slot machines. I breathed in the salt air and shook my head. I’d been abducted and dropped on the shores of Atlantic City.  What a place to end my unlife.

Find the earlier parts of this series here.

For OctPoWRiMo, 31 poems in 31 days–all part of one story. Watch me do it.


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11 thoughts on “Silent Shells

    1. well when I was kid, Atlantic city seemed an awful lot like hell. One I couldn’t escape because we couldn’t get my dad out of the casino and he had the car keys. Not a fun family adventure. So that has colored my perceptions of hell. I imagine it looking like Showboat resort and casino.🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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