Starting writing again tonight. I haven't written much in the last few months since my normal day job started up again. Felt good to get back in the writing saddle. Below is some of what went on tonight. Another take on a story scrap I jotted down a few years ago, called The Book of Shells. Enjoy. If you want to see how the story has evolved, you can read the original post here.
The Book of Shells
The noon air was warm and misty, filled with the sounds of gulls and the waves crashing on the cliffs nearby. Would be a postcard moment if not for the body waiting for him in the shack below. The detective ducked under the police tape and pounded down the rickety wooden stairs. Didn’t take long to reach the sandy bottom of the nearly hidden beach cove. Victim had this secluded spot all to himself. Cables strung along the stairway provided phone and electricity from the road above.
The detective opened the door and entered the sparse quarters. Guy lived a simple life. Small main room held a rattan chair and a coffee table. No pictures, no rug, no personal items anywhere. He stepped over the limbless outline, decades of cop superstition and Roman Catholic upbringing making him wary of disturbing the victim’s final resting place without cause. Bathroom sink held the usual toiletries, a dozen economy-size bottles of mouthwash, a gallon jug labeled Syrup of Ipecac, and a pyramid of toilet paper rolls. Interesting. He made a mental note to check on the plumbing. On the night stand in the bedroom was a long book, spiraled on the left side with brass loops, the kind that can be opened and closed. The book was wider than tall, reminding him of the shape of an old-fashioned ledger. “The Book of Shells” was written in neat black marker on the front, surrounded by strips of burlap. Scrap-booky but not in a bad way.
He reached out with the end of his pen and flipped the cover. Cover and title looked and sounded innocent enough, maybe a memoir of long walks on the beach and the treasures found there. The inside pages were gone, torn out.
That's all for now.
Two pictures for today. One is a message everyone should take to heart:
This one is a science funny. FYI, ants have an acid called oleic acid that they emit when dead. If you put that acid on an ant that is alive, other ants will carry him away and the ant itself will not resist, because to all ants, including himself, he 'smells' dead. Truth is truly stranger than fiction.
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