A Crab’s Tale of Woe

“Help Me”

I whipped my head around desperately searching for the source of the plea that reverberated in my mind. I looked around until I found her. She was lying there alone slowly scuttling around in the sand, anxiously making her way over to turquoise blue waters.

My heart skipped a beat the instant I saw her. She was beautiful. The pincers themselves were works of art, a soft brown colour, like coffee with too much cream. Along the edges were darker patches in perfect lines, just touches of a richer hue. She had darker legs and eye-stalks, her shell a mottle of the two shades.

I stopped, sat down upon the primrose sand, the hue as gentle on the eye as a vintage photograph, and asked her what was wrong.

She showed me a little movie clip of her family, and how they were cruelly taken away from her by a couple of fishermen. She then told me about the strong bond she shared with her precious family. Let me share with you what she had to say.

“In that moment of loss my world collapsed – where there was light became shadows, the pain coming and going like waves on frigid sand. What I once treasured is now a memory, a shadow lingering in the depths of my mind. It’s a strange thing to lose something which you once had, like a limb torn from your body without the chance to save it. The door that was once open and welcoming was locked and disinviting. They left me. I’m all alone now.

There is nothing noisy about pain, yet it has sound. I know there is hope. I just need to keep moving forward. But for now the loss is more than my heart can take and I feel the dark clouds looming in from above to obscure the sun. If love is a divine gift then sorrow is as well, for in its enormity is the proof of what used to be.”

I deeply sympathized with her and expressed to her that there was nothing I could do to help her. I assured her that her voice had been heard and that I would honor the memory of her family by telling the world about it. She said, “Time is a fickle thing. Honor the time you have with your loved ones for they can be taken away in a blink of an eye.” I sent her some healing energy in order to ease some of the pain she was experiencing. She thanked me, and turned to leave.

With every step she took the sand shifted. With every motion forward there was some backward and down, just like walking in fresh fallen snow. With pincers raised she made her side-ways scuttle across the cold morning sands until she felt it shift under her legs. In moments she was buried, lost under the swirling grains.