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Dark Inside

Heart of glass

By Dominic Casey-LeePublished 4 months ago 3 min read
Dark Inside
Photo by Inés Castellano on Unsplash

It’s dark in here.

And wet.

I was just hanging out with all my friends, when suddenly I began soaring through the air. Next thing I know, the light went out as I was engulfed in some kind of wet cavern. I’m being tossed around in here, occasionally clicking up against something hard. There are muffled voices outside, but I can’t hear what they’re saying.

The whole cavern starts vibrating and a high-pitched noise builds deep in the recesses. I believe it’s getting louder; that, or I’m traveling towards the source. I think it might be the latter, because the sound quality has changed, it’s deeper now. The texture of my surroundings is different too; it seems less wet, but the walls are closer and—not harder—firmer. There are no more hard things. And my rate of movement is constant now. The walls are pressing in on me, the sounds getting further away.

Space again. The walls release me, but now I seem to be in a pool of liquid, even wetter than the initial cavern. And much larger too. Echoes of grumbles and groans reverberate all around me. Strange hissing and wheezing noises punctuate the darkness. I can’t tell if I’m moving in any particular direction, but I am constantly rolling around with the sloshing of the liquid.

I don’t know how long I spent in that pool, but I’m sure it’s been longer still in this next chamber. Barely any sounds now, just the odd rumble. I have a sensation that I’m moving, but it’s impossible to tell really. The walls are tight against me again. Some other substance seems to be steadily building up around my body. There’s naught I can do but wait.

Of course, my entire existence pretty much consists of waiting. I don’t move of my own volition. If I am moving, though, it’s usually much faster than this; either rolling or flying. Other than these brief flashes of excitement, I’m pretty much always stationary, sitting around with my friends, waiting to move again.

So I guess I’m a bit lonely in here. I miss the exhilaration of sailing through the air, I don’t feel so lonely then, and most of the time I am swiftly reunited with my friends, though not always the same group. Sometimes it’s a completely new crowd, though that hasn’t happened for some time. But there’s always company or fun, and now there’s neither. I wonder if I’ll ever see my friends again.

Something is happening. The walls have tightened again, and there are sounds coming from further down the tunnel. There’s light, and I’m falling.


I’m surrounded by liquid again, but now at least there’s some light streaming through from above. Whatever this substance is that’s caking my body blocks some of it and there’s a huge shadow in the way of the source, but I bask in what I can. I hear chatter.

“Did you get it out buddy?”

“I don’t know mummy; I didn’t feel it.”

“Well hop up and we’ll have a look.”

The shadow edges away and finally the light hits me. I gleam, at least, those parts of my surface that aren’t covered in this strange, sticky stuff.

“I see it!”

“Well done, honey. You got it out.”

A satisfied hum, reminding me of the sound at the beginning of my journey, but lower, less urgent.

“What made you want to swallow that, you silly boy?” this voice is new, deeper than the other two.

“I don’t care why he did it, he’s never coming in my room again!” another new voice, higher pitched than the second, louder than the first. This one sounds most familiar.

“Do you want to fish it out?” the deep voice again.

“Eww, no! It’s not even a rare one, just a cat’s eye.”

That hurts my little glass soul, and if my glass body could crack from words, it would. I remember that same voice yelling “Yes! GO!” as I flew through the air. The tender embrace as I was collected from the ground, and soft whispers of “My lucky one” before I was gently placed back with the others, usually accompanied by a new buddy.

“Alrighty then,” comes the deep voice again. A clunk, then a gurgle. Abruptly I am tossed into violent motion, water roars around me and bits of the sticky stuff begin to peel away.

“I still don’t understand what possessed you to swallow a marble,” comes the far-off sound of the deep voice, before darkness swallows me once again.


About the Creator

Dominic Casey-Lee

Ecclectic, erotic, enigmatic. Exploring the mysteries of our existence through words, and hopefully providing some entertainment along the way.

Here you'll find excerpts from my fantasy project, stories, poems and general rambling.

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