I recently went to Tybee Island, Georgia (USA) for a writing retreat. There, I collected sea shells, which I brought home. The following sadness ensued.
THE SADNESS OF THE SHELLS
by Marian Allen
I walked on the beach in December
And picked up some shells from the beach.
I made it a point to remember
What posters endeavor to teach:
Do not collect living crustaceans
But only the ones that are dead.
Inspect each with infinite patience.
Yes, that’s what the posters had said.
I thought I had followed the order
In gathering gifts from the foam
And socked away shells like a hoarder
And packed them and carried them home.
I showed them to this one and that one
Who “ooh”ed o’er each lovely shell
Including one wonderful flat one.
And then the shells started to smell.
I washed them in hot soapy water
And put them to drain on a rack.
“They stink the place up!” said my daughter,
So I packed them back in a sack.
I soaked them in bleach and the flat one
Came open. My sorrowing eyes
Beheld the sad truth, which was that one
Was not a legitimate prize.
It had, in fact, contained two living creatures
With gooshiness and stinkiness their features.
So I’m repaid for taking what was living.
The smell is everlasting, unforgiving.
Oh, Mortal! take a lesson from this telling!
Be very, very careful in your shelling.
Okay, so I rinsed all the shells off, threw away the stinky one, washed the remaining ones in hot soapy water again … And they STILL smell. Is it residue from having been packed with Neptune’s Vengeance, or do I have another Hideous Surprise lurking? Time will tell. Time. Will. Tell.
WRITING PROMPT: An innocent mistake rebounds disastrously.
MA
Leslea
January 12, 2012 at 9:06amOh, Marian. I did that a few years ago. I went to Florida with my mom & her husband, for Thanksgiving. My mom found a shell on one of the inlet sides. It seemed fine. I had already returned several living beasts to the Gulf side. This one came home with me, and I didn’t realize it was truly inhabited until I ran my “shell bucket” under hot, soapy water, and I found it clawing for it’s life. It really broke my heart, and creeped me out at the same time. I couldn’t part with the shell, of course, after that sacrifice. I left it on the front porch in the bucket through three seasons, while it froze and thawed in bleach water. That’s always been such a guilty memory. I don’t even mess with shells anymore, now. 🙁
Marian Allen
January 12, 2012 at 4:28pmLeslea, I hear that! I’ve just been thinking that I’m going to be extremely careful before I carry home any more shells. 🙁
Jane
January 12, 2012 at 10:35amWhile some secondary inhabitants, i.e., shell squatters, may take up residence in a battered-looking shell, I don’t believe one should cease snatching up the little cuties. Maybe isolating the ones intact enough to harbor lifeforms might be a remedy. (One would carefully examine these, of course.) All I know is that most of my finds are already pre-sanitized by considerable oceanic activity, i.e.. busted into pieces already.
Good luck with future aquatic endeavors.
Marian Allen
January 12, 2012 at 4:29pmJane, that’s what I thought mine were: pre-sanitized and all bus’ed up like a chiffarobe. I THINK they’re just all stunk up by that one. My next move is to soak them in baking soda water.
Sarah Reece
January 12, 2012 at 11:17amMarian, Your poem reminds me of this little piece of poetry that I had come across the other day and felt was so beautiful…
THERE’S A PRETTY LITTLE LEGEND
THAT I WOULD LIKE TO TELL
OF THE BIRTH AND DEATH OF JESUS
FOUND IN THIS LOWLY SHELL
IF YOU EXAMINE CLOSELY
YOU’LL SEE THAT YOU FIND HERE
FOUR NAIL HOLES AND A FIFTH ONE
MADE BY A ROMAN’S SPEAR
ON ONE SIDE THE EASTER LILY
ITS CENTER IS THE STAR
THAT APPEARED UNTO THE SHEPHERDS
AND LED THEM FROM AFAR
THE CHRISTMAS POINSETTIA
ETCHED ON THE OTHER SIDE
REMINDS US OF HIS BIRTHDAY
OUR HAPPY CHRISTMASTIDE
NOW BREAK THE CENTER OPEN
AND HERE YOU WILL RELEASE
THE FIVE WHITE DOVES AWAITING
TO SPREAD GOOD WILL AND PEACE
THIS SIMPLE LITTLE SYMBOL
CHRIST LEFT FOR YOU AND ME
TO HELP US SPREAD HIS GOSPEL
THROUGH ALL ETERNITY
Marian Allen
January 12, 2012 at 4:30pmSara, that sounds like a sand dollar! I have one of those–dead dead dead dead really really dead and not stinky. I’m not going to break it open, though. It’s too pretty!
Liz
January 12, 2012 at 11:41pmI love your poem, your such a talented person.
Marian Allen
January 13, 2012 at 8:05amYou’re very kind, Liz. Glad you enjoyed the poem. 🙂