Sea Foam and Silence Page 2

  I have seen what nets can do.

  I do not want to become easy food.

  But I come ever closer to the top of the moving land.

  I cry for my sisters. They will hear me.

  They have always heard me.

  They do not come.

  By the time I’m near the top

  Of the moving land

  I am exhausted from struggling

  And heart-sore for my sisters.

  I do not understand the tall-crabs.

  They scuttle and cry all around me.

  There is noise and sun and heat

  And pain and aching and oh my heart is sore.

  My heart is sore.

  My body hurts.

  Then shade.

  Water.

  It helps a little.

  It helps enough that I can look around.

  The tall-crabs have made a… cave?

  It looms over me. Over them.

  I try to push myself higher, to see better,

  And the tall-crabs scuttle further away.

  Some have long claws, pointed at me.

  But they do not attack.

  I do not understand.

  When cool salt water hits my body

  I cry out, startled.

  The net still covers me, but no longer cuts.

  I can move now.

  Back. Back to the sea.

  My sisters will come.

  They will help me with the net

  If I can dive into the sea.

  I pull myself closer to the water.

  The tall-crabs are in my way

  And one of them startles,

  Jabs me with his claw

  And I hiss, recoil.

  In the water I would eat him.

  On the moving land, I am lost.

  The tall-crabs are restless,

  Noisy. Are they communicating?

  Like my sisters and I?

  One bark stands out,

  Like a seal’s call.

  It is the sound that makes the tall-crabs still,

  Their long claws pointed at me,

  But their attention elsewhere.

  I spot a gap. Several tall-crabs with no claws

  Standing side by side.

  They are so small.

  Are they tall-crab pups?

  They will pose no threat

  And even with the net,

  I can take one into the sea.

  I move.

  There is chaos.

  Everything is screaming:

  Myself, tall-crabs, the birds above,

  The net, even the sea is not quiet.

  I am slow. Heavy. Cumbersome.

  The tall-crabs are quick and nimble

  And their claws are sharp.

  The tall-crab pups are gone now.

  The sea is gone. The tall-crabs surround me

  And drive me back to their cave-thing.

  It moves in the breeze

  And I hunch underneath it.

  I must save my strength.

  I did not know tall-crabs could behave like this.

  I study them.

  They study me.

  I think they study me.

  I can hear their cries,

  Though I can’t see the ones making the noise.

  It sounds like my eldest sisters,

  When they cannot agree.

  Tall-crabs are not like us.

  They do not think.

  They do not talk.

  But watching them…

  I think perhaps that is wrong.

  More water.

  Precious, precious water.

  Surely tall-crabs must be sentient.

  How else would they know I need water?

  Why else would they give me the sea?

  I do not know what they want,

  With their soft shells and sharp claws.

  I hiss at one who reaches out to me.

  Its claw is trembling even worse as it pulls back.

  The next one, I’ll bite.

  I try to memorise their looks,

  So that I will know which tall-crabs to hunt for.

  So that my sisters and I will drown them all.

  They should be easy food for me.

  It’s the net. I tell myself it is only that.

  It is fine and light.

  I can barely see it, but I can feel it.

  Forced into stillness on the moving land

  I find it easier to bite at the net,

  To tear it to pieces and be free,

  But it’s slow. I must be careful.

  If tall-crabs can think…

  Then they will understand what I’m doing.

  I cannot let them see,

  I cannot take my attention off them.

  I have made a gap big enough for my head

  When two tall-crabs approach me.

  The others make a path for them

  And I sit very still.

  If I am fast…

  Would tall-crabs even know this?

  If I kill the leaders of their school,

  Will they follow me?

  I have no yet made up my mind

  When one of the tall-crabs reaches me.

  It makes itself small just outside of my reach.

  I lash at it anyway.

  It does not move.

  For a long time, I stare at it,

  Barely notice the water thrown onto my body.

  I look at the tall-crab’s eyes. I look into them,

  Trying to find intelligence there.

  When its claw reaches out for me,

  It does not tremble like the other tall-crabs.

  Something short and sharp snatches at the net.

  The other tall-crabs make more noise again.

  Eventually the net falls away

  And all I can do is stare at the tall-crab

  As it moves away, back just outside my reach.

  It makes a noise and points its claw sideways,

  Towards the sea. I do not understand the noise,

  But the gesture says ‘go there’.

  I stare at the tall-crab,

  Then pull myself to the edge of the moving land

  And dive back into the sea.

  My head bobs up moments later

  To watch the moving land.

  I will memorise it.

  I will remember this tall-crab.

  And I will not eat it.

  I will follow it.

  The moving land makes for the still land.

  I follow it as closely as I dare,

  As closely as I can.

  It is hard.

  My body hurts and the sting of salt…

  Sometimes I wish the tall-crabs had killed me.

  Other times…

  I think I will hunt these tall-crabs into the sea

  Without the aid of my sisters and tear them apart.

  I won’t even eat them.

  I may leave some of them alive,

  Bleeding, and watch the sharks feed.

  That is what my sisters would do.

  It is what I should do.

  I should.

  I should.

  But I am not with my sisters.

  I am not my sisters.

  And if tall-crabs can think…

  I do not know I do not know.

  If tall-crabs can think,

  If it set me free on purpose,

  If it kept the tall-crabs from killing me…

  Should I not keep from killing tall-crabs?

  I must know more about them.

  I must learn.

  The moving land makes for the still land.

  I watch it from as far as I dare go.

  I stay near the still land for a long time.

  There is much moving land here,

  More than I have ever seen.

  I’ve only ever seen the moving lands several at a time.

  The tall-crabs scuttle about this way and that,

  But they
only go up on the moving land.

  I dare not come too close.

  There are always tall-crabs here,

  Taking their small moving lands in and out.

  Tall-crabs hunt for fish,

  Just like we do.

  I knew this. They caught me with their methods.

  It still surprises me so much

  That one morning I follow a small moving land.

  Out it goes, splashing in the water with long claws.

  Out it goes, with only a couple of tall-crabs on it.

  They do not move, but one of them… sings?

  I’m unsure. Do tall-crabs sing?

  It is not very pretty if they do

  And the wind snatches at the sound,

  Like it hates it too.

  Watching the tall-crabs is boring.

  They do nothing interesting.

  They sit and move and do things to their nets.

  Watching the tall-crabs is fascinating.

  Their claws truly are like my hands.

  They make noises at one another.

  I watch them from afar, my head slick as a seal’s.

  I bob in the water, mimicking their behaviour.

  If they understand I am not a seal…

  I do not know what they’ll do.

  I don’t want to find out.

  So I keep myself at a distance,

  Coming closer only in the deep

  Where I am invisible and safe.

  I know where their nets are,

  I will not get caught again.

  I am starting to get hungry

  When I spot the seal.

  It is fighting against a net,

  Just as I was before I came here.

  The tall-crabs are moving towards it,

  But I cannot let them have it.

  I am too hungry.

  I should have returned to the still land ages ago.

  The moving land I was following may have left.

  Perhaps it has moved. I have no way of knowing.

  But without that seal, I will be weak.

  It has been long since I ate.

  I would not take tall-crab-caught food

  If I were not so hungry.

  The moving land is faster than I am.

  Thoughts of food have slowed me today.

  Perhaps I am not in the mood for seal.

  Even caught, I cannot imagine it being easy prey.

  The seal is hauled up and I watch, helpless,

  As my food disappears before my eyes.

  I dart away and up, out of the water,

  To watch the tall-crabs.

  The seal is on the moving land.

  The two tall-crabs are moving.

  They sound like gulls squabbling

  And their gestures are short and swift.

  I wonder.

  I have never seen tall-crabs move like this,

  But with my sisters these movements

  Would mean anger.

  One of the tall-crabs points to the sea, to me.

  I duck under the water when I notice,

  But I cannot stay below for long.

  I am too curious.

  I watch as the tall-crabs free the seal from the net

  And toss it back into the sea.

  Did they know I was looking for their food?

  I dive under the water and dart after my meal.

  I am lucky it does not recover immediately.

  Seal is not my favourite meal,

  But it is food.

  I did not hunt it myself,

  But I eat it.

  I get to a safe distance before surfacing

  And watching the moving land leave

  With its strange claws.

  When the tall-crabs spot me again,

  I duck under the water and hide.

  I stay under the water all the way

  Back to the still land.

  The tall-crabs do not notice me again,

  Though I follow so close that

  I can almost hear them.

  They sound as garbled as the birds,

  But I am sure there is understanding to it.

  I want to learn more.

  So close to the still land it is dangerous.

  I am not afraid of the tall-crabs seeing me;

  There is too much of the moving land,

  Ever bobbing in the waves,

  And hiding is easy.

  No, it is the nets. There are so many nets,

  So many tiny bits of moving land

  That leave and return.

  I lost the moving land I followed here long ago.

  Everything looks so much the same

  It is like trying to spot the changes

  To a pod of dolphins.

  I don’t understand what I see,

  The tall-crabs moving on the land,

  Carrying fish and nets and… things.

  They gift each other food and objects.

  One time, when it is dark

  And I have dared to venture near,

  Some of the tall-crab things fall into the water.

  The tall-crab that held them

  Does not walk like a tall-crab.

  It undulates and weaves,

  Makes even stranger noises and sounds.

  I have darted after the things it dropped,

  Then I realise that it has fallen

  Into the water after its things.

  My first tall-crab.

  My first tall-crab.

  I don’t know what to think.

  It struggled. Not as much as I’d feared,

  Not as much as I’d wanted to.

  I can return to my sisters now.

  But the thought makes me uneasy, restless.

  I dart to and fro in the water.

  I am afraid of the still land.

  There are so many tall-crabs there.

  Will they notice one of their school missing?

  If they see me, they will hunt me for this.

  My sisters and I would hunt them.

  I’d thought… I don’t know what I’d thought.

  That catching a tall-crab would have been

  A great struggle,

  That I would feel changed, matured, adult,

  That I would feel united with my sisters.

  Instead I feel only confusion,

  And perhaps shame,

  A lingering sense that I am lesser,

  Though they are only tall-crabs.

  I think it is the net,

  The tall-crab that set me free.

  It could have eaten me,

  Killed me, left me to dry out in the sun.

  It returned me to the water.

  It could be the tall-crabs that fed me.

  They set free their own food

  And gave it to me.

  I am sure that they gave it to me,

  Though why… Who could understand a tall-crab.

  I want to.

  I want to understand tall-crabs,

  To hear their cries and know what they say.

  I want to know why it let me return to the sea.

  I want to know why they fed me.

  I want to know what the still land is like,

  To sit under the sun without the fear of dying.

  Tall-crabs can do that.

  I want to know why. I want to know how.

  I want to know why catching my first tall-crab

  Left me feeling hollow.

  I want to know why I am not like my sisters.

  Something is wrong with me.

  I cannot return home until I understand.

  I miss my sisters. T_T So much.

  When I come home at last,

  Will they understand? Will I?

  Uncertain,

  I swim away from the still land.

  I swim back.

  I eat fish.

  Swim away.

  Back.

  Fish.

  I swim.

  I swim and I t
ry to decide

  What it is that I want to do.

  Moving land, big moving land,

  Drifts away. Should I follow?

  Should I stay?

  I follow.

  I stay close to the moving land,

  As close I dare,

  As close as dolphins dare.

  The tall-crabs do not see me.

  They live on their moving land

  And make their cries and eat their food.

  I am no closer to understanding tall-crabs.

  If only I could find that tall-crab!

  I can get close to them.

  At night, if I am careful, I can pull myself up.

  I can get right beside the moving land

  And watch the tall-crabs move about.

  And they will not see me because it is too dark

  And I can dive into the water

  Too fast for them to know.

  I cannot find the tall-crab that cut me from the net,

  But I can study tall-crabs now.

  They do many things I don’t understand.

  They store water. They store food.

  They have the whole ocean around them

  And they do not hunt for food.

  I think they’re singing.

  It is nothing like whale-song, but.

  It is not the same as when they cry.

  I know it isn’t.

  Frustrated, I dive back into the water.

  The moving land is filled with light.

  The tall-crabs made it somehow,

  And I do not trust in the darkness enough

  To trust that their light will not find me.

  Cautious, I stay behind.

  At least until the sun has risen and set again.

  When the moon has risen,

  I heave myself up onto the moving land

  And hide in the spot I have found myself.

  There is silence.

  All through the day I’ve seen fewer tall-crabs,

  Though I don’t know why.

  Perhaps it was not their light in the darkness,

  After all.

  I see fewer tall-crabs now.

  There is one I have never seen before.

  It is about as long as I am. I think.

  A little longer, perhaps.

  I wonder about that, about what

  Young tall-crabs look like.

  Mermaids are sleek and and curved.

  This tall-crab is all rock-edge and coral.

  It also follows other tall-crab around,

  And if I still had doubts that tall-crabs are sentient

  I would have lost them now.

  They look too much like my sisters

  Teaching us how to live safely.

  I am fascinated.

  The small tall-crab is curious.

  I see it more often now.

  I am less careful now.

  I must be careful with the sun

  And I must ensure I’m not seen,

  But I find I enjoy the thrill of it,

  The wonder of what these tall-crabs can do.

  It is a shock to find myself facing one again.

  It does not try to catch me.

  It does not attack, doesn’t even move.