Flipside

Holy moly me oh my.
They gathered swaying hems as they stumbled into the grime, sand-blood squishing between short and pudgy and long toes. Straw blew in whirling circles trying to scrape and scratch strawberry-cheeks.
Whispers of haunting floated into the open mouths of wailing water nymphs with their seaweed woven garments and thorny crown wreathes. Blue-green-bluishgreenish heaven of a different kind. Hollow eyes.
There was absent light, and upside down chartreuse glow worm maggots - fluorescent and vomity. White fire paths burned on the steel water surface in straight streaks. Mostly. Fever pitch wailing and then a sudden lightning-cracking silence. Tastable, hearable silence. Dense dank heavy water silence. Pops of bubbles erupted in the air, frothed seawash rolled onto the bloodied toeprints, and jetsam from the moment's frolicking carved deep into ridges of memory.
It began.