A hollow rattle

I followed the dry gravel path a little further toward a weathered garden bench. Tucked underneath in the soft dirt sat an empty metal snail shell, coated in a fine dusting of sand. I paused, nudging its spiral curve gently with my round body. It didn't roll away; instead, it tilted onto its side with a muffled clink against a flat grey stone. When a light gust stirred through the garden, a faint whistling hum sounded through the shell's tiny hollow opening, soft and steady right by my feet.