The Auction

Today’s prompt: “Write a life as the inventory of an auction.”

Lot 47: Your wedding ring, pried from your cold fingers.
Lot 62: The bike you rode up the Pacific Coast with your teenage son.
Lot 84: An oak bookshelf, the one that contained your old art history textbooks and the photo album of your trip to Venice. Lightly stained with your blood.
Lot 91: Your Nintendo Switch. Heavily stained with your blood.
Lot 127: The pipe that was pried from under your kitchen sink with inhuman strength and wrapped around your neck.
Lot 165: A painting by your favorite local artist. The glass in the frame was found cracked, and deep, clawlike slashes spread across the canvas.
Lot 228: The eldritch spellbook that you found under a loose floorboard one day that called a monster into being. Starting bid: $500,000.