I Hear the Bells of Hell
by Cindy O’Quinn
Issue 5: Occult
© chok68
I left pieces of myself buried among the words. In the beginning, they were the tiniest of clues. No one could know—not ever. Not you. From there, my story grew. Ting, ting! I’m a bell.
Remembering Father, like stone. Eyes above—eyes below. The dead return, making their way home. See the pebbles. Find the stones. Always watching. Watching.
I dropped crumbs along the path. Small, lingering teardrops. White like snow. Smooth under bare feet. Growing larger with the waxing moon. Ducks in a row… Waiting. Waiting.
Why did I bother? This thing I did. Walked on eggshells when I was with you. Like a rabbit, stuck in a snare. I’d gnaw my damned foot off to avoid your glare. Ding, ding! This is hell.
Cindy O'Quinn
Cindy O’Quinn is an Appalachian writer who grew up in the mountains of West Virginia. She has had a longtime love of everything horror, thanks to her mom who started her at a very young age. Cindy is the author of Dark Cloud on Naked Creek and the dark poetry collection Return to Graveyard Dust. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Twisted Book of Shadows, the HWA Poetry Showcase Volumes V, Nothing’s Sacred Volumes 4 & 5, Rag Queen Periodical, Moonchild Magazine, Sanitarium Magazine, and others. You can follow her on Facebook @CindyOQuinnWriter, Instagram cindy.oquinn, and Twitter @COQuinnWrites.
