The Stones Waiting
Don't read too much into it.
Those stones have stood there forever,
as long as anyone can recall—
like teeth in a bottom jaw,
the rest of the head, gone to time.
-
Not a human head, either.
Something other. Something older.
But don’t read too much into it.
-
After the storms die out,
when the waves have scoured the rocks clean,
come morning, there’s a glow to be seen.
-
A strange one. A shimmer that clings,
soft as fingers on the basalt face,
like something left its breath behind.
-
Nothing but plankton, of course.
Just the sea phosphor.
Don’t read too much into it.
-
Ask Old Whaley—
gut like a barrel, breath like low tide—
he’ll tell you about Lucy.
-
Drowned herself two years back,
like the others before her.
All Merrick girls, all five,
starting with Lara, ten years past.
-
Eerie coincidence, even this time around.
But don’t read too much into it.
-
"You stand by the cave at twilight,
you might hear them crying."
-
Old Whaley mutters between sips,
been drinking since Lara went in.
Cousins, and more, if you'd permit.
-
Ten years of booze will fuck your mind up.
Makes you see things.
Makes you hear things.
But don’t read too much into it.
-
Archaeology, is it?
That what you do?
There money in that?
-
Because folks here—they’re poor, you know.
Living in grand old houses, sure,
but step inside and the rot will claim you.
-
Same with the people.
Something off in them.
A little too much glint to the eyes.
-
Too much phosphor from the sea, maybe.
Gets in the blood.
Gets in the bones.
Gets in your dreams.
-
But don’t read too much into it.
-
You want to see the stones?
Spend the night?
Ah—Whaley got to you, didn’t he?
-
Sure, sprat, I’ll take you.
You think I look normal?
That’s kind of you.
-
That’s about right.
But you’re reading too much into this.
Nothing wrong, I assure you.
-
Best keep your pack light.
-
Storm’s rolling in.
Sea looks pissy tonight.
-
And no, I can’t stay.
The inn needs tending.
And coffins don’t build themselves.
-
One must always be sure.
Never know who will come to stay.
Or stay forever.
-
Only fooling, sprat.
-
Don’t read too much into it.
-
Come on now.
Best not keep the stones waiting.
.
About the Creator
Iris Obscura
Do I come across as crass?
Do you find me base?
Am I an intellectual?
Or an effed-up idiot savant spewing nonsense, like... *beep*
Is this even funny?
I suppose not. But, then again, why not?
Read on...
Also:
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Keep reading
More stories from Iris Obscura and writers in Poets and other communities.
Iris Diaries: Zeela's Story
Zeela. Bloody Zeela. A name that should’ve been stitched onto a protest banner but ended up smeared across the ruins of her own life instead. Born into a family where revolution wasn’t just a word - it was the air they breathed, the smoke they exhaled, and the reason they forgot to pack her lunch. Her parents were comrades first, zealots second, and somewhere down the list, occasional caretakers.
By Iris ObscuraExclusive • 11 months ago
Comments (5)
Magnificent and eerie. "Living in grand old houses, sure, / but step inside and the rot will claim you" is such beautiful writing. You tell a whole story in just a few lines. Terrifying, and that's lovely!
Oooh, this is so beautiful and chilling. I love the story behind this.
Written by an old soul. You may be youthful but your writing displays experience and worldliness. Excellent work, Iris. I have subscribed to you.
"coffins don't build themselves...stay forever...best not to keep the stones waiting" - hauntingly beautiful. The refrain "don't read too much into it" convinced me to read very closely and multiple times lol
Yep super eerie! Such a good read.