Ghosted

You killed me. It was you who killed us both. You led me on. You dragged my disagreeable body past the junked cars on your property, properly pulling everything apart, under the same moon that once meant so much to us.

You weighed me down with everyday things all the while lying to me as you sang. "Stupid bitch! Cinder blocks for little Miss Cinderella. Pfft!" you said as you wrapped my legs, arms, and neck. Cinder blocks and used ropes. The same cinder blocks we put on the graves of our dearly departed pets to keep the varmints at bay, or so we hoped.

When you shoved me overboard, I was weighed down by your shit, not mine. I slid like a dead weight into the water and the slime. It filled my body as I dropped fast. I wondered how long the anguished sadness would last.

I tumbled over and under and upside down. I fought it for a while, but I fell in lust with the constant muffled sound. I took it all in. Everything began to spin. Time slowed down as I neared the ground. And I cursed you sharply, pound for pound.

The big drink.

My death underwater was turbulent, cloudy, and gritty. Everything was distorted, clammy, and I quickly became a soggy entity. Disquieting, numbing, and blurred. The channel catfish came in closer to the spur. I was decaying down below, while you brought another in. You had no guilt about carrying on and giving another woman a spin. We were all the same to you. I sank further. I was lifeless. My insides were gone, my soft tissues were rifling.

The television news shtick was delivered with buttered toast, "The National Weather Service has issued a hurricane warning for the coast. The cone of risk is narrowing. The storm is expected to hit after midnight near Mystic and the weather will be harrowing."

You said to yourself, "Oh shit. Noooo. AHHHHH!"

And I smiled to myself. How does it feel to be put on the shelf?

You felt the alarm that comes with drowning in the muck; the horror of betrayal and shit out of luck. Just like I felt when you began to destroy me. That sinking panicked feeling, destroyed and unclean. Now you are on the floor crying. Gutted like a channel catfish. Oh well, so long. You’ve been struck off of my list.

I was down at the bottom for a while. I should have let go sooner, instead of holding on so tight. But it felt so good to feel nothing at all and I felt so light. My mouth sucked in the tiny white shells. I knew that by doing this I would go straight to hell. The reduced, vulnerable ropes that you used to tie me down with fell apart quickly in the salty waters. I began to break free.

Finally, I began to rise to the surface. I broke up more. My half-eaten and swollen limbs separated where they were finished off in your submerged charnel house. No more arms to hold and no legs to run back. Just my core was left. No more need to be slack. My muscles and tendons deteriorated the closer I came to the surface. Piece by piece, I broke up and was repurposed. Now there was less of me to get in the way. No more need for me to say it's all okay.

When I broke through the surface of the salty, churned, boggy waters, my long hair tangled in the reeds and I decided not to bother. I was exhausted and unrecognizable. Only my distended torso and dangling heavy head were left, and they were quite sizeable.

My eyes were wide open. My tongue swelled out. Most of my skin had slipped off. What little was left was being eaten by the turtles, fiddler crabs, and other scavengers of the brackish waters. Most were familiar to me, but it didn't really matter. All of them were greedy, excited, and elitist. They sculpted my remains into a Cubist's Venus.

Now I had no limbs to steer me. I curved and flowed with the natural stream. The undulating tide delivered me to a small spit of muddy, unstable beam. It was good to be ashore again. Despite my current state, I washed up with no hate. The after-storm overcast helped raise the curtain slowly on my emancipated, clean slate.

I was found by two illegal hunters that trespassed on your land. They weren't blood-related to you but were of the same clan.

The older hunter said, "Don't go into the water. ‘member what I told you about the sinkholes. And be sure to watch out baby bro for the deadly unseen undertow."

"Geez. Is it a Halloween decoration? You know, like one of those gross real-lookin’ skeleton mannequins? Or maybe one of those dolls you hear about with the hole to stick your banana in?" asked the younger hunter.

"You mean like your girlfriend?" said the older hunter.

"Shut up!" said the younger hunter.

"Ha, ha! Well, it could be. After storms, all kinds of shit can wash up." the older hunter warned.

"Here. Use this and poke it." instructed the older hunter as he handed the younger hunter a piece of driftwood.

"No way, man." said the younger hunter as he backed away from where he stood.

The older hunter chortled, "Yea, well, sometimes shit looks real and it isn’t."

"Yea. I guess. Whatever the hell it was, it chose not to linger. I’m leaving. I don’t want any part of this." said the younger hunter as he waved his hand.

Both men squatted down fast after hearing you wading into the water to start your retrieve.

The younger hunter said loudly, "Don’t go that deep, man. It’s dangerous!"

"Shhhhh! We ain’t supposed to be here. Come on. Good gracious." whispered the older hunter.

Like scared crabs, the two hunters scuttled and got away.

You decided to lurk back to the familiar place where you buried me. You had to return to make sure I remained tied down and a part of the sea. And to try and destroy any evidence; long time no see.

"Dammit.", you mumbled as you got your muck boots stuck in the sticky, swelling mire. "So much trouble. Where the hell are you? You trolling exiled cow." You looked into the dirty, stirred-up water for me, but you only saw yourself. I was not there. I had drifted on and devolved into something that you were not familiar with. The gift horse has gone to hell.

The more you struggled, the deeper you got; this was a first for you. I raised, was invisible, and silently watched.

I looked at my former self. Then I looked back at you. I watched you sink.

Down.

Down.

Down.

Now you are caught. Pitiful human remains.

You are leftovers for the sea and a lonely ghost like me.∞

A printed, color, fully illustrated, softcover book of Ghosted is available for purchase here, GHOSTED.

https://artistcameronhampton.wixsite.com/cameronhampton