Answer:
My first is second in line; I send shivers up your spine; not quite shining bright I glitter in the light.
An open ended barrel I am shaped like a hive. I am filled with the flesh and the flesh is alive.
I am one with eight to spare, lest I lose my one. I'm not a number. What am I?
I must be broken before you can use me.
I am in truth a yellow fork from tables in the sky by inadvertent fingers dropped the awful cutlery. Of mansions never quite disclosed and never quite concealed the apparatus of the dark to ignorance revealed.
A little house full of meat, no door to go in and eat.