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Beware of your dreams. They may come true.
Living under the pier, he had ample opportunity to watch the beautiful gulls wheel effortlessly in the bright blue sky. They squawked and fought, skirmishing just like brine shrimp, except for those wings: those beautiful, glistening, pure white wings. He looked down at himself with a watery sigh. The shell into which his body was crammed was getting a little too tight. He would have to look for another soon, risking once more the dangers of homelessness.
Every morning he ascended to the surface to hide beside a seaweed-encrusted board on the waterline, just to watch; to imagine himself as one of the free, one of the winged, one of the beautiful. It was all so hard to take and so very difficult to accept. When evening drew in he drifted back to the seabed, his natural home, to feed and rest before another day of longing and envy.
Until the wondrous day came where all his dreams came true.
Out of nowhere - as the sun was setting - something huge and white snatched him from his hiding place. Suddenly he was lifted-- carried-- lofted into the red orange hugeness: the sky for which he had pined for so very, very long. It was nirvana -- it was heaven -- it was bliss!
So big, his little eyes couldn't see where it ended; so massive, his mind couldn't accept that sky and ground kissed where the Sun had turned into a glaring ball more orange than any anemone.
He went up, and up, and up ... wheeling and thrusting further from the sea, to where the world ends and night begins; then he stretched out his pincers and yelled in his tiny voice --
"I'm flying! I'm flying!"
The parking lot rang to the sound of angry voices. Raging and complaining, the owner of the sports car threatened the restaurant manager, to no avail. Eventually, he gave up -- loudly announcing he would 'never grace this establishment again!' while angrily sweeping the mess from the dented roof with a tissue. Once the lot quietened and everyone had gone, the screeching seagulls swooped down to scavenge the scattered mess of hermit crab, before they flew off into the dark evening sky...
oOoLiving under the pier, he had ample opportunity to watch the beautiful gulls wheel effortlessly in the bright blue sky. They squawked and fought, skirmishing just like brine shrimp, except for those wings: those beautiful, glistening, pure white wings. He looked down at himself with a watery sigh. The shell into which his body was crammed was getting a little too tight. He would have to look for another soon, risking once more the dangers of homelessness.
Every morning he ascended to the surface to hide beside a seaweed-encrusted board on the waterline, just to watch; to imagine himself as one of the free, one of the winged, one of the beautiful. It was all so hard to take and so very difficult to accept. When evening drew in he drifted back to the seabed, his natural home, to feed and rest before another day of longing and envy.
Until the wondrous day came where all his dreams came true.
Out of nowhere - as the sun was setting - something huge and white snatched him from his hiding place. Suddenly he was lifted-- carried-- lofted into the red orange hugeness: the sky for which he had pined for so very, very long. It was nirvana -- it was heaven -- it was bliss!
So big, his little eyes couldn't see where it ended; so massive, his mind couldn't accept that sky and ground kissed where the Sun had turned into a glaring ball more orange than any anemone.
He went up, and up, and up ... wheeling and thrusting further from the sea, to where the world ends and night begins; then he stretched out his pincers and yelled in his tiny voice --
"I'm flying! I'm flying!"
oOoThe parking lot rang to the sound of angry voices. Raging and complaining, the owner of the sports car threatened the restaurant manager, to no avail. Eventually, he gave up -- loudly announcing he would 'never grace this establishment again!' while angrily sweeping the mess from the dented roof with a tissue. Once the lot quietened and everyone had gone, the screeching seagulls swooped down to scavenge the scattered mess of hermit crab, before they flew off into the dark evening sky...
oOoCategory Story / Animal related (non-anthro)
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 119 x 120px
File Size 2.3 kB
arctic
......my first reaction was to laught....... my second reaction was to hit myself for laughing at this (I got a morbid sencse of humor ) Quite an entertaining little story. I'd love to see more of your writing in the near future. It's been such a long time since you've submitted any writing
*shrug* Didn’t do so well on the first try, here’s the rewrite, http://www.furaffinity.net/view/1221439/
*evil laughter* Now you do the same under the topic Staircase.
*evil laughter* Now you do the same under the topic Staircase.
Sad. Cruel. Blunt. I liked it very much. Oh, the irony... Why we laugh at silly death?
Glanced through your gallery, saw only Thursday Prompts, which I have already commented. Started to fear you don't write anything but them anymore. Well, this isn't a Thursday Prompt, but something very prompt-ish. Very clever, even if cruel story. I laughed in the end. Because of irony. And because it is right to that sports car owner to have a dead crab on his car. Cars should be cheap enough so that it doesn't matter if they have some slime and mud on them and a dent or two around the hem. Yup, I enjoyed reading this, great little piece.
Glanced through your gallery, saw only Thursday Prompts, which I have already commented. Started to fear you don't write anything but them anymore. Well, this isn't a Thursday Prompt, but something very prompt-ish. Very clever, even if cruel story. I laughed in the end. Because of irony. And because it is right to that sports car owner to have a dead crab on his car. Cars should be cheap enough so that it doesn't matter if they have some slime and mud on them and a dent or two around the hem. Yup, I enjoyed reading this, great little piece.
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