But I dive for the water as quickly as I can.
My heart thumps in my throat
As I go as deep as I dare.
I can sense the moving land above me,
Getting further away as I wait until I am calmer.
Not even the dolphins seek me out to play.
I should go back. Find my sisters.
I should go home. Hunt tall-crabs.
I can’t. I don’t know how.
So I follow the moving land again.
Eventually, I will meet others.
I can decide then.
The small tall-crab tosses
Fish into the sea.
They are dead fish and the tall-crabs have
Done something to them,
But they are food. Sometimes I eat them.
I prefer to hunt for my own food.
I do not go back to the moving land.
I only follow it, cautiously.
I keep to the water, watch from afar.
There is a storm coming.
I wonder if the tall-crabs know.
I follow them, darting this way and that,
Because I am agitated by the storm.
I wish my sisters were here.
I have never been alone in a storm.
Not like this. Not so far from the bottom of the sea.
I am watching the moving land,
Keeping my head above the water as much as I can.
I want to know how tall-crabs on their moving land
Will deal with a storm.
Tall-crabs make a lot of noise.
The storm is fiercer than I thought it would be
And the tall-crabs are moving around
Quick as swordfish,
Making so much noise it’s not
Until the storm reaches us
That I can’t hear them over the wind and the waves.
It is too dangerous, far too dangerous, to stay
And so I dive.
Deeper into the water I go,
To where the storm has little enough hold.
I look up, though the roiling waters
Make it hard to see.
The moving land is thrown about.
Bits of it sink into the sea.
The tall-crabs will soon follow,
Do soon follow.
My sisters have told me that.
I have seen them cause this,
But I know only I have caused this.
No one but me was watching these tall-crabs.
No one but me is watching them sink.
No one but me is watching them fight.
They will lose. Tall-crabs always lose against the sea.
And I am hungry.
I have not finished my meal
Before movement catches my eye.
So far to the edges of my sight I almost miss it.
Almost.
It is the tall-crab that saw me.
It does not see me now.
It is fighting, as they all fight,
Against the sea pulling them down,
Against the sea pulling them away.
The storm is still above us,
Stirring the water into a rage.
The moving land is still falling,
Making me pay more attention than I might have.
My meal sinks to the bottom of the sea,
Blood dissolving into the water as it does.
I propel myself towards the tall-crab.
It is not like the one near the moving land,
Not really. That one was easy to pull down.
This one is difficult to pull up.
Its limbs lash out at me, darting this way and that,
And it is only when the tall-crab is losing strength
That I manage to get a good grip.
I drag it up, trying to aim
For some area away from the storm.
Tall-crabs need the air above in ways that I do not.
I hope it helps. The water is not yet calm
And we are tossed about.
Even if the tall-crab were still fighting me,
I don’t think it could have stayed afloat.
It has gone limp in my arms and I panic, a little.
The tall-crab needs land.
Not the moving land, the still land,
The land which does not sink beneath a storm.
That is what it needs. I do not know the way.
I do not know these waters well.
I do not know where to find the still land.
I do not know how long
I can keep hold of this tall-crab.
I do not know whether I can find moving land.
I do not know how long
I can keep swimming without feeding.
I do not know whether this tall-crab still lives.
I do not know what I am doing.
I only know that this tall-crab saw me.
I only know that it did nothing to me.
I will try to save it.
I must try to save it.
I have been swimming in circles.
No. I know I have not. It merely feels that way.
The tall-crab is weight attempting to drag me down.
I hold on anyway. It might be alive.
I have been swimming aimlessly.
I do not know where to find land
And keeping a tall-crab above water is hard.
It is much harder than I had imagined,
Much more difficult.
The tall-crab looks so small…
But it is heavy and it wants…
No, I don’t think it wants to sink.
It wants to float.
I doubt that is better.
I try to orient myself.
I should have paid more attention
When I followed the moving land.
Though all the markers I might use are underwater
And I would not have dared to swim so deep
Anyway.
Were we moving towards the sun?
I think so. I hope so.
I have decided to swim away from the sun.
The tall-crab remains limp in my arms.
At least it is making me watch for the sun.
I can hardly move, dragging it around like this,
But I do my best anyway.
There is no land.
Anywhere.
There is no land.
I cannot see moving land.
I cannot see still land.
I cannot see rocks.
I can see nothing but the glimmer of the sea
And the wheeling of gulls up in the air.
I can see nothing but the sky above me
And the occasional dolphin keeping its distance.
The tall-crab is getting so heavy.
It hurts my arms to drag it forward.
Why am I doing this?
It’s probably dead.
A waste of food and energy to drag it somewhere.
Why am I doing this?
I am hungry.
I have not eaten since the moving land sank,
Since I found this tall-crab.
I have been swimming for so long.
The sun disappeared at night
And I think I lost my way.
I had forgotten about the sun.
I am tired.
My arms ache and sting and I want to let go.
I don’t understand why I do not.
I swim on.
Further and further and further.
The world around me is moving.
Not in the way that the waves move it,
But moving. Like it doesn’t know it should be still.
I swim on.
My vision is blurring and growing dark.
I am tired. I need food.
I think about eating the tall-crab.
It is so tempting because I am so hungry.
But if I eat it, I will have done all this for nothing.
&nbs
p; I don’t even know what ‘this’ is.
I try.
I try to find land for the tall-crab.
I try to pull the tall-crab with me.
I try to keep the tall-crab above water.
It is harder than anything I have ever done.
So hard.
It is so hard because the tall-crab is so heavy.
I don’t think it’s moving.
If it’s not moving, it’s dead.
It’s dead, isn’t it?
The tall-crab died in the water.
It must have died in the water.
Maybe my efforts killed it.
They wouldn’t, would they?
I didn’t try to eat it. Not once.
I know how to kill tall-crabs.
I have killed one.
It was nothing like this.
What do I do now?
What do I do?
I have to let it go.
I can’t keep taking it with me.
Not if it’s dead.
Not when there is no land to leave it on.
Not when I am ravenous.
I let go.
The tall-crab bobs in the ocean,
Lonely and alone, as I sink deeper.
I have to hunt.
I have to.
I try to hunt.
I am so hungry.
I try so hard.
But I keep thinking.
I keep thinking about that tall-crab.
I keep thinking.
I see it before my eyes.
Always.
I snatch for a fish
And there I see it again.
The tall-crab.
I see its face.
Startling back means the fish escapes.
I can feel it brush past me.
Time and again,
Unexpectedly,
I see that tall-crab.
I am hungry,
So hungry.
I even eat mollusks
Because I can still catch them.
They taste of tall-crab.
Tossed around in the sea,
Their moving land sinking.
Their shouting.
I wonder if the surviving tall-crabs
Have found safety.
I doubt it.
There was no still land anywhere near us.
They can’t have.
Should I have taken my tall-crab to them?
Would they have thrown nets at me?
I have never seen this,
Not from so close.
I did not sing the storm into being.
I did not kill the tall-crabs.
But I see them always.
They will not leave me alone.
I don’t know how long it has been
Since I have last eaten.
It feels like a lifetime.
Where are my sisters?
I want my sisters.
They would know what to do,
Why I cannot stop thinking about tall-crabs.
They would have food.
Yes. Food.
That must be it.
I’m thinking of tall-crabs
Because I’m hungry.
Starving.
The fish are too fast.
I am too weak.
I swim on,
Calling and keening for my sisters.
I swim on,
Trying and trying to catch some fish.
I swim on.
I swim on.
I have long since lost track of time.
Sometimes I surface for air
Or a breeze.
It makes me feel a little better.
It does not fill my stomach.
It does not fill me.
Food.
Why can’t I catch any food?
Tall-crabs.
They are everywhere.
In my ocean.
In my food.
In my sight.
In my ears.
In my thoughts.
In my sleep.
No no no no no.
I must find my sisters.
I must find food.
It must stop.
I must stop.
How do I make it stop?
How how how how how?
Make it stop.
Please, someone make it stop.
I am alone.
So alone.
I want my sisters.
I want waters I recognise.
I want food.
I have eaten…
I don’t know what I’ve eaten.
Something.
Coral?
No. No, I wouldn’t eat coral.
What am I eating?
I’ve forgotten.
Can’t think.
Must think.
Must eat.
Dead fish.
It is not much.
But it is food.
Something.
It is something.
I am so hungry
It is a feast.
I have found food.
Some food.
The dead fish I ate gave me strength.
That strength gave me fish eggs.
Fish eggs gave more strength.
More strength gave me real fish.
Small ones, but proper fish.
I can hunt again.
Oh, I am still so hungry.
I will catch so much fish
I will sink to the bottom
And stay there until I am old
And dead.
But I am not dead.
Not yet.
I am alive.
I am strong.
I am swift.
I am deft.
And I will not go hungry.
There is a school of fish nearby.
I’ve seen it. Felt it.
It is a big school.
I wish I had a tall-crab net
So I could catch many, many more
Than I can without my sisters.
I have not thought of tall-crabs for many days.
I wonder why I am thinking of them now.
It can wait.
There are fish I must catch.
I am not the only one
Who has thought to catch this school.
For the first time in a long time
I see one of my sisters.
No.
Not one of my sisters,
Not from my school.
But from another.
I am almost too excited to hunt.
But I do.
She and I hunt.
The school should escape unharmed.
We are not used to working together,
Do not know each other,
Cannot tell the roles within a school.
The fish scatter at our attempts,
But we catch several.
Enough to feed a small school of two.
My sister soon meshes perfectly with me.
Our movements are one.
Synchronised perfection
Even my sisters do not match.
We have fish.
We feast.
My sister’s grin
Reminds me of a tall-crab.
I do not know why I am thinking of tall-crabs again.
I may be sick to death of tall-crabs and their faces.
“What’s the matter?” my sister asks.
She has settled on an outcropping of rock,
Tail wrapped sinuously around it.
I have chosen to swim,
To feel the strength of my muscles
And to know that I am alive.
I do not answer.
She is my sister and a stranger both at once.
“Are you still hungry?”
I say ‘no’.
I am not hungry.
She sounds ancient.
It’s something in her voice,
A weariness from too much swimming.
“We should stick together, you and I.
”
I agree. It is good. Two are better than one.
And perhaps companionship will distract me
From thinking about tall-crabs again.
My sister and I do not speak.
We swim together.
We hunt together.
We eat together.
We sleep together.
But we do not speak.
Not after that first time.
I think she knows I do not quite trust her.
I expect her to leave.
I expect her to want all the fish.
I do not know why.
This is not like me.
I am not like this.
It leaves me agitated and upset.
When my sister suggests that
We swim to the surface,
I cannot find it within me to disagree.
We have spent most of our time
Deeper than I would normally go,
Deeper than I am used to.
My eyes have not adjusted to the darkness.
My body has not adjusted to the pressure.
Air and light will do me good.
So I follow my sister to the surface.
We find moving land.
My sister laughs and darts for it,
But I stay behind.
I cannot move.
What if the moving land sinks again?
Perhaps it can sink even without a storm.
What if another tall-crab falls into the sea
And cannot get out?
I am scared and I don’t know why.
My sister…
She comes back for me.
When she realises I am not following
She comes back to me.
She asks me what is wrong.
I cannot tell her.
The words are stuck in my throat.
“Do you want to catch tall-crabs?” I ask.
My sister splashes her tail on the surface
And takes me by the arm.
She drags me closer to the moving land
And I don’t know whether to resist,
So I do not.
The moving land scares me.
My sister climbs it without fear.
She perches on it in broad daylight.
She sings.
“Come down!” I cry. “They’ll spot you!”
My sister glances down at me
And pushes herself away from the moving land.
She falls into the water with a splash,
Dragging me with her down into the murk.
“What are you afraid of?”
She is not accusing me.
She sounds curious.
“I don’t know.”
And, just like that, my attempt to save
The tall-crab comes falling out.
I tell my sister everything.
The loneliness, the heartache, the nets,
My first tall-crab, the storm,
My thoughts…
There is nothing I do not say,
Because I cannot contain it any longer.
“Tall-crabs can’t survive under water,”
My sister says.
“I know.”
“You tried to save it.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
I don’t. I truly don’t.
Sea Foam and Silence Page 3