She’s been beach combing for hours, hunting for unique shells along the tide line, putting dead ones in her bag, throwing the live ones back into the sea. As she turns to start her trek back, she stumbles over the sharp spires of a lightning whelk.
Whatever lived in the shell has vacated it, leaving an unobstructed view of the smooth, pink walls. Holding a hand against her left ear, she lifts the shell to her right, waiting to hear the rush of wind and water.
Instead, a voice emanates from the shell.
“Why are we doing this again?”
“Because we must find the Master!”
“But the Master left eons ago!”
“It was five minutes, FIVE MINUTES YOU BLASTED-”
“Why are you guys always fighting?”
The voice continued to talk to itself in it’s tinny little voice, changing who was controlling the voice every sentence. She dropped the shell like a hot coal and like a hot coal that one has been holding for a while, her fingers refused to budge.
Great, now she was stuck with some kind of Dis-associative Identity Disorder Shell.
She hated going to the hospital to get weird things removed from her person. You’d think she’d have learned her lesson about picking things up in random places the last time she’d gone to the hospital to remove that marble she’d poked with her bare foot.
The first section is a prompt from Chaotically Yours, the second section is my continuation of the little story snippet. I’m very tired so this was the first thing to jump to my fingers and of course it’s a little silly.