He wasn’t sure why he
had come to the beach, maybe to swim, maybe to drown, but that was when he
found it. It was a shell of his former self, just sitting there in the sand,
washed up by the high-tide.
It was striking in
the overcast light, a milky pink colour, shimmering occasionally like a pearl
as he walked towards it.
He slipped inside it
and found it fit him still and he felt secure.
He took it home.
Over the next few
weeks he spend more and more time in it, he found it comforting and safe
inside, the sound of the ocean surrounding him, he was untroubled right down to
his cockles.
“He’s gone back into
his shell,” his mother would say when friends called by.
As years seem to do
one passed almost without notice, causing everyone to remark, “Where did the
year go!”
He had not been seen
for some time.
“Don’t you think
it’s time to come out of your shell?” his mother yelled into the opening.
Her voice echoed
back at her. The shell of her son was empty.
“He’s finally outgrown
us,” she shouted to her husband in the next room.
No comments:
Post a Comment