Change is an interesting concept. Some embrace it while others fight against the evolution. Sometimes you are so deeply ingrained in a way of life that to think that something will alter becomes incomprehensible to you. It becomes wrong in fact. This transformation within your existence, this evolution, is viewed by you as an enemy. Which means that it must be stopped at all costs, so you may preserve your way of life for the future generations to come.
The snails were no different. How they lived their life had been that way for aeons. The inkling that something may destroy the very foundation of what they cherished threw them into a chaotic state of mind. This is an unnatural condition for a snail to be in. They are peaceful beings and their minds are like calm seas with only a few ripples breaking the surface. These ripples are normally concerned with “should I join that delightful looking orgy over there by the large oak tree, or should I go and slake my lustful needs upon that delicious looking snail standing by the dandelion all on its lonesome?” And so the consequences to this bedlam raging through the minds of our amity loving nymphomaniacs can be calamitous as we see in the historic documenting of that fateful day.
The surging lustful mass decreased as one by one the bodies populating it slid reluctantly from its hot grasp. Till there were only two copulating bodies left: the original couple who created the sexual furore. Their still aroused bodies hid the source of the unrest that was beating within the snail population breasts. So after first a gentle persuasion and then later a non-gentle persuasion, their bodies ripped apart to reveal beneath their love-making a shell-less snail writhing and enjoying his freedom in the sunlight.
A collective gasp went throughout the crowd. Transfixed by the sight of the naked snail they could not tear their eyes from the shrivelled slimy half body in front of them.
So seams spilt as realisation of what was occurring spread through the mass by the babbling brook
Two bodies, once worshipping the other one, once as close as one can be with another being, stood facing each other as before yet now their bodies stood at opposite ends of the chasm that had opened up in the newly created space once filled with their heat. They would never cross this chasm and so the greatest love story that would have been never manifests a beginning, end or middle. It just hangs in time, a moment passing
The naked snail waited a breath in its foetal position, suspending time as they knew it for a little while longer. It could not go back now, only forward into a time not as they knew. So after a few beats of a sinking heart and with a sigh the snail let go and this new time, this time that was unfamiliar to them all went forward.
The snail righted itself and looked defiantly into the shocked faces of his once brethren. Word must have spread as Ivy through the community as a larger crowd than the participating orgy had gathered and more were to be seen coming in from all directions as fast as they could slide along the grassy terrain leading to the bubbling brook.
A large snail detracted itself from the mass and slid forward to face the lone being in front of it. This snail had some standing in the community and in a voice infused with 1000 or so other bodies asked what the being thought it was doing.
The shell-less snail said nothing just stared out to the crowd.
Revolution can be lonely
Looking to its left the snail could see its shell shining in the morning hue. It seemed to be causing as much furore as the nakedness of the snail body. Never having entered another’s shell before the crowd were exploring the recesses and textures presented to them.
The shell-less snail, ironically found it was feeling soiled and abused by this exploration of the cast off crustacean. It felt anger and shame that others were viewing what only it should see: It’s private place. Then the anger turned inward at itself for feeling this way about what it viewed as an inanimate object. This anger welled up inside and began to boil beneath the surface.
What happened next can never be forgotten. It must not be forgotten.