I wonder what they’ll see when I’m dead. The grains of time will erase me and leave nothing but bones. Ribs—hollow. Eyes—black. Hair—gone.
Hands shackled.
Ankles slanted.
Toes pointed.
Whoever finds me will discover a deceased reflection of what’s inside us all.
Written By
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SlasherMonster Magazine 
Great existentialist story, FTM. I liked the graphics, too.
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A skeleton is an inner reflection of something we all have inside us. Thanks for reading and commenting!
–FlyTrapMan–
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I enjoyed this. I miss this. I want to get back into interacting proper with everyone. I love reading others writing. ^_^
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Thanks for reading! You’re more than welcome to send one of your entries to SMM, or you can create something new, and we’ll schedule a posting date.
–FlyTrapMan–
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If I ever take you up on that offer, I will be sending something original in. You all were already kind enough to feature an Entry from my blog.
Thank you souls! You are too kind! ^_^
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I always feel thrilled reading your poems, but I’m curious about what you mean by “hands – shackled.”
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The skeleton was shackled to a wall (like something you’d see in a dungeon, or perhaps an Edgar Alan Poe story).
–FlyTrapMan–
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Oh, that poor guy! Cool story. Poe’s probably dancing in his grave. ⌛️⏳👻
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A great piece Fly.
Why was the poor guy shackled to a wall?
Was he a bad person? 💀🔪💀
Or just unlucky? 😢
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