(Continues from Silent Shells)

The wall across from me crumbled and revealed a winged horror waving its scaly hands to dispell the dust. Before it could clear its eyes, I lunged and hit the thing square in the chest. But it had brought a friend and a second fiend slashed at me with a bejeweled knife. Gems flashed red just before the thing took a slice out of my leg.

Ghosts don’t bleed like the living do. But the knife hacked off a piece of me sending a quivering blob reminiscent of unflavored gelatin flying. I dove, eager to catch the bit of me falling fast before another one joined the pile. Slipping on shells, my attackers tumbled heading for the sea pounding this bizarre island of shells.

My hand closed over the bit I’d lost. I blinked at the red water lapping the island’s edges. Were those skulls sitting on crossbones? Where the hell was I?

Something seized my ankle and lifted. Upside down, I stared at a possessed casino. Doors formed a glassy maw licking its cash register lips for a taste of me. My captor shook me but I held onto my jellied flesh–or was it a piece of my soul I gripped?

Slipping into place,
memory walloped me
handing me an ace.
Upside down, the world made sense.
I finally had the space
to remember this place
and what I’d come to replace.
Downside up, I could interface. 

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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