Skittish little Sand Crab

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

One day he talked to me in the desert. It was hot; unbearably stifling and I was near being delusional with exhaustion. There was no water left under my tongue, but he came dancing across the waving sands, with a curiosity no living thing should have in this heat.

"Well, my good sir, what does your head feel this fine day?" he asked me. And I actually responded with a nod, and a quick grasp at him. He skittered away with deft movements, barely seeming to touch the blazing sand. I watched with dread, as he disappeared as quickly as he had arrived, leaving me to bake in the oven of this god-forsaken desert.

Shortly after, with a throbbing head, I dug into the shaded sand under a cactus tree. It was cool enough to keep me alive for a while longer.

When the army medics arrived, they moved just like the crab. Skittish and fragile in the heated sand.

I went home in a hammock full of ice surrounded by the whirring of heat pulsing propeller blades. We skimmed over the desert sand forming waves before and behind our tracks.

When I awoke in the hospital, there was once again a skittish little sand crab floating precariously over my bed. Someone had left it to keep me company. This time he didn't leave me behind.

Writing by Regina Stemberger

Photo "Cangrejo moro (Explore #4)" by Big Max Power-Leg broken, so I comment your photo

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