A Tire Swing Story is a bite-sized "imagining" inspired by an object I discover while wandering. It could be a curbside trash gem or a message sprayed on a wall. A lost mitten, or an antique store find. Anything goes. I photograph the object and post them together, the story and its inspiration. There will be a new story every Monday and Wednesday. On Fridays, I'll discuss writing, life, love, and coffee. (In no particular order and maybe all at once.)

Monday, October 17, 2011

It's dark inside this air vent. The light shining through the metal slats is dim. I crawled in, but I'm not sure how to get out again. All of my brothers and sisters have been eaten in the human's feast. I can see some of their remains on the floor. An antennae here, a claw there. 

Except for the hairball living inside this vent, I am truly alone. He scared me at first, but now we have become friends. I call him Harry. To pass the time, I recite poetry. (I consider myself a poetic sort of crab.)

And what is the future, happy one? 
A sea beneath a cloudless sun; 
A mighty, glorious, dazzling sea 
Stretching into infinity.

This life is a fragile thing. One minute you're a carefree bottom-feeder out for your morning walk, the next, you're somebody's dinner. 

The pot of hot water was bubbling on the stove and one-by-one, my friends were being plunged inside to their doom. When the hand came to take me too, I made my move. I pinched that human woman as hard as I could. She shrieked and drew back, giving me enough time to escape.

I scuttled toward this air vent and hid inside. But now I'm getting weaker. I've got nowhere to go. Even if I could manage to get out of here, I don't know the way back to the sea. 

There are no words too beautiful to say
of one who goes forevermore away 
Across that ebbing tide which has no flow.

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