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People say if you hold a shell to your ear, you can hear the ocean.
Amy has never heard the ocean through a shell. (She’s tried them all, from creamy speckled junonia and striking lightning whelk, to oyster and the iridescent pen shells that shimmered like the ocean water under a noon sun.)
But she has heard other things.
The hiss of flame, the gun burst crack of collapsing wood, screams cut short.
Always and forever, the same sounds.
Today, through the dusky conch, she hears a voice, crackling and rough like a sea bird’s cry.
For Velvet Vebosity’s 100 Word Prompt: Listening