Low Tide

Its about a clam

Living perched on the side of a rocky cliff my life depended on the ocean roaring below. I could hear the ocean waves crash on the rocks below. The seagulls squawked as they circled above, searching for an easy meal. In front of me I could see two slugs slowly sliding across my place oblivious to the danger overhead. Each leaving a trail of slime glistening behind them.

It was low tide, the day was dry forcing me to shut my shell tight to save what water I had, but it could only last me so long. As day moved on the temperature soared; even the slugs were heading for cover out of the heat, slowly working their way toward the cool shade cast by the cliff above. Out of nowhere I felt a gust of wind, and there was a streak of white. I looked up to the clouds to see the bird rise into the sky with its lunch. As the bird disappeared from view a single white feather drifted down on the breeze and landed in front of me by the remaining slug still heading for shelter from the sun.

With the sun strong above, my shell was very hot. I could feel my water beginning to dry up. But I could hear the waves below; they sounded closer now. I prayed the water would hurry on its trek up the cliffs to reach me.

Time ticked by and all I could think about was my rumbling stomach. I could nearly taste the salty plankton the waves brought me every day. I could feel my tongue swelling in my shell. It was getting hard to breathe. I couldn't breathe the dry air. I began to feel sleepy as the sun continued to shine above reflecting off the life giving waters of the sea. I took a last look around and noticed the slug was gone just before I fell asleep.

Next thing I knew, I felt cooling water rush over my shell forcing me awake from my near deadly slumber. With surprise I opened my shell wide and drank the water in. I ate up the plankton and nutrients that have been washed up to the highest reaches of the tide, in no time I could breathe again.

The waves crashed around me, straining the silky strands of byssus that kept me tethered to my place. With each surge I was pulled closer, teetering on the edge, until I let go. The perch I called home was too high above where I belonged. The water below gives me life and I should have lived closer to it in the first place.

I tumbled down bouncing off of the rocks like a rolling stone. I did not know how far I fell, but I landed on a perch very similar to my own, though with curly shelled snails instead of slugs. I took a look around above and below. In this new place to call home I firmly planted my silks and braced for the next wave to wash by bringing me my meal until the next low tide.