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Stuck with the Skulls
January 5, 2016
What is that stacked up against the wall?
Piles of white logs, they call me towards them.
I squint my eyes to overcome the dust.
A shadow to my right cranes my neck.
An echo bursts through the corridor.
It pushes me forward.
But I’m grabbed from behind, not by a hand.
I see myself in the hollow sockets of the skull who tripped me.
I look up to a voice with my heart in my throat.
“Hey! The catacombs close at nine, you’re going to have to
leave”
© Xiao H., Naperville, IL
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