From the Atlantic to the Pacific Sea Creatures Can Be Horrific

The tiny creature pounced, securing itself to its prey with needle-sharp teeth. It shredded flesh with its abrasive tongues, vacuuming up pureed meat through its three tubular maws. When it was satisfied, it detached itself from the fish and allowed the Atlantic waves to hurdle it toward shore. As the ocean ebbed during low tide, the odd being was left to settle amid the flora and other fauna in a flooded crater within the jagged rocks. The new resident adapted accordingly and took shelter in the spiraling tunnel of a large seashell.

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Rachel sat with her feet immersed in the sun-warmed waters of the tide pool and breathed in the salty air. The squawking of gulls echoed, and the occasional breeze brushed her skin. Her fingers glided over the shell in the apron of her skirt. It was as large as a fieldstone but light as a hollow globe. Caressing it, taking note of every sunken crease that dented its smooth surface, she could feel that the object coiled like a gigantic snail shell. As her hands slid around the circumference, she became aware of an opening on one side: the entrance to one, long, twisting corridor.

Her son, Sean, was somewhere down on the beach snapping photos and she was glad. As of late, he'd been continually fussing over her, and she worried that her blindness was preventing him from pursuing his passions. When the temperature began to drop, she and her son decided to call their final vacation day another success and retire to the hotel for dinner. Rachel cradled her treasure as Sean looped his arm around hers and guided her back toward the bus.

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After a long and exhausting flight, the family of two arrived home. Rachel carried the cumbersome shell into the laundry room and deposited it in the large utility sink before turning on the faucet. She squeezed some liquid soap into the stream of warm water and soon the shell was completely submerged in a sea of foam. She turned off the water and yawned, unaware of the odd-looking creature floating among the bubbles. It drifted toward the sturdy, plastic wall of the basin, flailing as it struggled to climb out of the polluted liquid. Rachel turned and shuffled through the doorway, leaving the shell to soak while she napped.

About an hour later, she returned to the laundry room, it smelled delightful, citrusy, then grasped the loofa off of the nail and plunged the spongy side into the shell’s opening. When she pulled the stopper from the drain, the creature’s dead carcass was caught in the swirling water and swept down the pipe.

After setting the shell in the center of the coffee table, Rachel turned toward her son as he reclined on the couch and kissed him on the forehead. “Samson and I are running to the corner market to get a quart of milk.”

“I’ll go.”

“No, you stay and watch your TV show. I'll be back in a few minutes,” his mother insisted.

She slapped her thigh and Samson trotted over, nudging Rachel’s hand with his snout. She grabbed his harness, and the companions went on their way.

Sean refocused on the television screen. Through his periphery, he could see something wiggling near the shell. His head snapped to the thing that had crawled out of it. Floundering onto his feet, he watched it creep along the edge of the table, down the carved, wooden pedestal and onto the parquet floor. He inched closer, looming over the creature. Gawking downward, Sean was reminded of the aliens he saw in old movies. Two symmetrical inky black globules on a plump, red, teardrop-shape form stared up at him. The thing stood stock still on three thick legs.

Reaching to his left, Sean grabbed a heavy, hardcover encyclopedia from the bookshelf, nearly dropping it before grasping it with two hands. He held the book out in front of him, released his grip and let it plummet to the floor. It landed flat, directly on top of the mutant ladybug. Cautiously, he lifted the book, a look of anticipated disgust on his face. But nothing was there, no slime, no goo, no viscera.

He grabbed the shell from the center of the table, took it outside, and thrust the nozzle of the garden hose into the opening. He planned to flush out anything else that might be loitering internally. Rushing water filled the channel. When he shut off the water and removed the hose, he took off his shirt and stuffed it inside to soak up any excess liquid and wipe away any undesirable residue.

Within minutes of placing it back on the table, another entity appeared at the mouth of the long, winding cave. He thought it might be the one he somehow missed when he dropped the book. After removing his sneaker, he slammed it down and the thing jumped onto the back of his hand. Sean felt the sting as its teeth pierced his skin. He felt the burn from its sandpaper tongues. Worst of all, he felt the awful sensation of tissue being suctioned.

He waved his hand vigorously in hopes of shaking the thing loose, but it adhered to the back of his hand as if it were permanently attached. A sore wrist was his only accomplishment. He grabbed the bloodsucker in his left fist and pulled, but to no avail. He squeezed, and when he felt a pop, he reluctantly uncurled his fingers and saw no hint of the bugger, not a smear. Three holes appeared to have been drilled through the fleshy tissue below the knuckles of his right hand.

Frustrated, he scooped the shell into a recycled store bag, gave the package a spin, and sealed it with a tight knot. He carried the shell to the street at the end of the driveway and dropped it next to the other two bags of trash. He hoped his mother would understand.

Early the next morning, the custodian gathered the three bags. As he tossed them toward the rear loader, the shell tore through the thin sack and landed hidden in the tall grass at the end of the driveway. There it sat, its occupant nestled inside.

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A few hours later, Bridget was jogging passed Rachel and Sean’s house when she noticed the sizable shell glinting in the sunshine. It was surrounded by some over-grown weeds. Its iridescent colors dazzled her, and she was certain that with a bit of polishing it would be a nice addition to her collection of lustrous stones. Plucking it from the nest of weeds that surrounded it, she carried it home, placed her find in the bathtub and rinsed it off with the shower wand, leaving it on an absorbent mat to dry.

A few minutes later, as Bridget sprawled in a chair in the living room reading a book, she spotted something on the carpet. It looked like a big, red button. However, as she moved closer, she realized that it was a rather large insect with two black spots that she mistook for buttonholes. She walked to the bathroom and returned with a wad of TP.

When she squatted, the thing hopped onto her knee startling her, causing her to fall on her bottom. It sprung onto her face and attached itself to her cheek. She screamed, more out of fear rather than in pain, her hand waving frantically in an attempt to swipe it off. Meanwhile, it scraped with its rough tongues and sucked up the sustenance. Before long, it retracted its teeth and tumbled passed Bridget’s shoulder onto the carpeting, leaving three icepick sized holes in her left cheek. It scurried across the carpet and disappeared into the dark bathroom.

Bridget rose to her feet and hurried after the creepy-crawly. She flicked the lights on and caught sight of the creature scampering into the shell. She grabbed a can of hairspray from under the sink, aimed the aerosol at the entry to the beast’s home and sprayed until the can was nearly empty. She then grabbed a towel and threw it over the shell, hoping that whatever was inside, stayed inside. She gathered up the big bundle and headed out the back door, sprinting down the narrow road behind her house and stopping at the first receptacle she saw. Hoisting the bundle over her head, she heaved it on top of the smelly mound of trash bags. The towel fell open, and the shell sat atop the stuffed bags like a crown jewel.

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Athena peered out through the diamond-shaped gaps in the lattice that concealed the space under the steps, she could see something twinkling across the alleyway. She removed the framework of boards and stumbled across the dirt road to get a closer look. An opalescent object rested on a towel atop a mountain of stuffed trash bags like a cherry on an ice cream sundae. The unusual piece would surely attract some shoppers at the outdoor market and fetch a fair price.

Athena stretched until she was able to pinch the corner of the towel and tugged. Another tug and the shell tumbled toward her. She caught it before it hit the ground. There was a funny odor wafting from inside, not bad, a medicinal scent — and vanilla, like cough drops and marshmallows.

After placing the shell in a milk crate attached to her bicycle’s handlebars, Athena pedaled to the community market two blocks away; it would be swarming with people ready to purchase almost anything imaginable.

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Roger’s artistic eye immediately focused on the unique gem adorning the overturned milk crate. The girl kneeling near it stood and waved for him to come closer. She was quite charming, and it wasn’t long before Roger was the new owner of the shell. He swung his backpack off his shoulder and tucked his purchase inside. He was going to be returning home to California the next day, and wow, what a sendoff.

During the plane ride home, Roger unzipped his backpack to remove his book and then set the open sack between his feet. The hungry creature crawled from the open bag and bounded onto Roger’s bare ankle. It failed to attach itself to the bony region, but Roger yelped when he felt the sting of its teeth. He could only hope that he wasn't sitting in the middle of a flea infestation. The creature dropped and rolled underneath the adjoining seat.

Once the plane touched down, Roger gathered his belongings, and as he trudged along the tarmac the entity scrambled to catch up to its habitat until it vanished under the hard sole of a cowboy boot.

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Upon arriving home, Roger eagerly placed his latest novelty on the end table near the front door. He grabbed some dried flowers from the guest room where his countless, brilliant discoveries waited to become works of art. He stuffed the flowers into the side-opening in the shell. The reborn thing living inside scurried out and settled camouflaged amidst the red roses and black baby’s breath. It rested contented, until it got hungry.

After an exhausting morning exercising with his dog, Roger entered the house and collapsed onto a chair next to the table by the door. Moments later, he noticed something stirring near the unique vase and leaned in for a better look.

The creeper scurried across the table and leapt onto Roger’s neck. He instinctively smacked the area with his open palm and heard the wet squelch of a pulpy grape. When he slid his hand from his neck, he noticed that there was no evidence that anything had been there. He turned to gaze in the mirror but saw only redness from the slap. He stared, lost in thought and confusion. An irritation near his shoulder blade caused him to jump to his feet sending the chair crashing into the wall behind him. The table wobbled and the shell tumbled onto the area rug. The pest retracted its teeth, unlatching itself from its meal, and plummeted to the floor. Then it scurried toward its shelter. But Roger’s reflexes were quick, and he stomped on it. He lifted his foot, nothing. He looked around, flopping into the chair behind him. Then he spied the creature twitching in the exact spot he stomped on it before it scuttled back into the shell.

Roger’s alarm turned to disgust and disappointment. He snatched up the shell, dashed along the jetty behind his house, and tossed it, along with the creature that dwelled inside as far as he could into the dark, mysterious waters of the Pacific.

End