03-01-2019, 11:05 AM
I'll be sitting here with a song that I wrote, saying
love could change the world in a moment
love could change the world in a moment
My crab friend had it right all along! First of all he knows how to get out of the sand. Second, he likes walking sideways and he liked the open beach more than the structures. So, of course I love the open beach too!
I do enjoy the sights; and I might have enjoyed the view around the weird structures too, but my childish mind perhaps didn’t think them more out of the ordinary than anything else - this sand is white and it is warm and so here, it is so much different than anything back home… surely this place has the bestest of shells to find!
But the good weather doesn’t stay so very good for very long. My first clue is my new friend abandoning me; suddenly, he buries himself back into the warm sand and I am dishearted. Then finally, I look up. I have just about time to find the gaze of the russet stallion, the black-based girl with spots just like mine, a spotted and -antlered- mare who would otherwise have caught all my interest, and a younger stallion with colours like my sister Sheen’s -
...but it is the sandstorm that catches my eye, behind them.
A pitiful whine is the first thing to escape me; just about the same time, my wits seem to have fled as well. I stand like a frozen statue, glowing with heat and light as my only defense mechanism (which unfortunately does nothing against being buried in sand); my emerald gaze wider than the moon at spring-tide as I watch the sand-monster take his revenge for not eating me - it’s coming back to eat me!
Terrorized, I take a few steps back, until the sea beckons at my hocks. No, wait, I can’t go yet! I need to find shells! Hastily, I look around, spying a few other people running around. I can’t help but whine once more, but then struggle to get back on the beach. It’s an adventure, it’s supposed to be scary.
In retrospect, I’m lucky to be so naive at this moment.
Blue is gonna be my new favourite colour. I remind myself while I look over the beach. The only - only - positive thing in this situation is that the sand getting swept up means the shells become visible. Hidden, I thought so all along!
Blue - something black and bluish shines to me, and I run towards it. A blue mussel shell, which I gingerly collect between my lips. It’s a sharp one, this one, I feel, and I’m very careful. Blue - another shell nearby is nearly blue, though if I look close I see that it’s because the prickly cockle is actually grey striped with white. But I can’t be picky now, and most of all, it caught my eye so it’s gotta be good, right?
My two shells get carried in my mouth and I with my Mama would be here to tangle them into my mane. I probably am dripping saliva as I try to see through the storm (I gave up on hearing or having any clue about my directions long ago). When I’m near desperate and want to give up, I spy a little movement behind a rock. It’s my crab friend! (Or maybe it’s a totally different crab, but I instantly decide this is my crab friend anyway.) I hurry towards him, dropping my two blue-like shells to see if he’s okay.
The crab is in its natural habitat, and seems not to care much about the storm. But next to the crab is a very pretty dog whelk shell - all white and curly and with traces of gold in it. That’s mine, I think, the crab must have brought it to me!
I adore my three shells - they may be normal looking, but they are whole, and I think they’re pretty. One is like me, two are for the fairy. My collection couldn’t be better fitting, and so behind the rock I take them back in my mouth. The muscle stings a bit, and I might have a cut in my lip now, but I can’t care right now. I have to go, and soon. I breathe deeply through my nostrils - and find myself surrounded by sand.
I nearly drop my shells when I realize this, eyes teary-watery. I’m still, or again, glowing, a beacon in the storm but what I need is someone else to guide me. But nobody comes, at least not that I can see; I can hear something in the distance that might be growling, and I may as well go in that direction, but I don’t know if the sea growls or if it’s the sand monster trying to lure me. Hesitantly, I peer through the storm, my head low by the rock and the crab.
There’s one last break in the clouds of sand, and I spy something blue once more.
I make a break for it and run - faster than I ever did before, faster than I will again for a long while. My young legs aren’t made for this, but if it’s any luck, I do know my way around a sandy shore. Never mind that it isn’t grey or cold out here. It might as well be - and so I run, until I make it off the island and into the water. It’s blue - blue water - and if I weren’t carrying three shells so carefully, I would have shouted with joy.
It’s funny how the way back seems always easier than the way to. Or maybe it’s because I know that I’m leaving the sand monster(s) behind, and will never have to see them again. Maybe the tide is in my favour as well (it probably is, since it had been against me on the way towards the island - with the water lowered, I find more places to rest).
Completely dehydrated, slightly bleeding where the sand and the mussel have cut me open, and way out of breath, I reach the mountain with my shells. I drop them next to the antlered mare and the sister-coloured male, and then I drop myself to the ground because honestly, nobody ever told me I needed to be standing while I waited for a fairy. I’m exhausted and I want to be home.
(And I want my crab friend to visit me, where there is no sand monster.)
I do enjoy the sights; and I might have enjoyed the view around the weird structures too, but my childish mind perhaps didn’t think them more out of the ordinary than anything else - this sand is white and it is warm and so here, it is so much different than anything back home… surely this place has the bestest of shells to find!
But the good weather doesn’t stay so very good for very long. My first clue is my new friend abandoning me; suddenly, he buries himself back into the warm sand and I am dishearted. Then finally, I look up. I have just about time to find the gaze of the russet stallion, the black-based girl with spots just like mine, a spotted and -antlered- mare who would otherwise have caught all my interest, and a younger stallion with colours like my sister Sheen’s -
...but it is the sandstorm that catches my eye, behind them.
A pitiful whine is the first thing to escape me; just about the same time, my wits seem to have fled as well. I stand like a frozen statue, glowing with heat and light as my only defense mechanism (which unfortunately does nothing against being buried in sand); my emerald gaze wider than the moon at spring-tide as I watch the sand-monster take his revenge for not eating me - it’s coming back to eat me!
Terrorized, I take a few steps back, until the sea beckons at my hocks. No, wait, I can’t go yet! I need to find shells! Hastily, I look around, spying a few other people running around. I can’t help but whine once more, but then struggle to get back on the beach. It’s an adventure, it’s supposed to be scary.
In retrospect, I’m lucky to be so naive at this moment.
Blue is gonna be my new favourite colour. I remind myself while I look over the beach. The only - only - positive thing in this situation is that the sand getting swept up means the shells become visible. Hidden, I thought so all along!
Blue - something black and bluish shines to me, and I run towards it. A blue mussel shell, which I gingerly collect between my lips. It’s a sharp one, this one, I feel, and I’m very careful. Blue - another shell nearby is nearly blue, though if I look close I see that it’s because the prickly cockle is actually grey striped with white. But I can’t be picky now, and most of all, it caught my eye so it’s gotta be good, right?
My two shells get carried in my mouth and I with my Mama would be here to tangle them into my mane. I probably am dripping saliva as I try to see through the storm (I gave up on hearing or having any clue about my directions long ago). When I’m near desperate and want to give up, I spy a little movement behind a rock. It’s my crab friend! (Or maybe it’s a totally different crab, but I instantly decide this is my crab friend anyway.) I hurry towards him, dropping my two blue-like shells to see if he’s okay.
The crab is in its natural habitat, and seems not to care much about the storm. But next to the crab is a very pretty dog whelk shell - all white and curly and with traces of gold in it. That’s mine, I think, the crab must have brought it to me!
I adore my three shells - they may be normal looking, but they are whole, and I think they’re pretty. One is like me, two are for the fairy. My collection couldn’t be better fitting, and so behind the rock I take them back in my mouth. The muscle stings a bit, and I might have a cut in my lip now, but I can’t care right now. I have to go, and soon. I breathe deeply through my nostrils - and find myself surrounded by sand.
I nearly drop my shells when I realize this, eyes teary-watery. I’m still, or again, glowing, a beacon in the storm but what I need is someone else to guide me. But nobody comes, at least not that I can see; I can hear something in the distance that might be growling, and I may as well go in that direction, but I don’t know if the sea growls or if it’s the sand monster trying to lure me. Hesitantly, I peer through the storm, my head low by the rock and the crab.
There’s one last break in the clouds of sand, and I spy something blue once more.
I make a break for it and run - faster than I ever did before, faster than I will again for a long while. My young legs aren’t made for this, but if it’s any luck, I do know my way around a sandy shore. Never mind that it isn’t grey or cold out here. It might as well be - and so I run, until I make it off the island and into the water. It’s blue - blue water - and if I weren’t carrying three shells so carefully, I would have shouted with joy.
It’s funny how the way back seems always easier than the way to. Or maybe it’s because I know that I’m leaving the sand monster(s) behind, and will never have to see them again. Maybe the tide is in my favour as well (it probably is, since it had been against me on the way towards the island - with the water lowered, I find more places to rest).
Completely dehydrated, slightly bleeding where the sand and the mussel have cut me open, and way out of breath, I reach the mountain with my shells. I drop them next to the antlered mare and the sister-coloured male, and then I drop myself to the ground because honestly, nobody ever told me I needed to be standing while I waited for a fairy. I’m exhausted and I want to be home.
(And I want my crab friend to visit me, where there is no sand monster.)
but what do I know?
Aodhán
little fire
