Archibald's First Dark Deed
Archibald the slug, nee Archibald the snail, had dragged its tired body miserably to the edge of the lake. Archibald had recently been in a long disagreement with a crow about why it should not be the crow’s dinner. When young and with shell, Archibald had been a brave snail outspoken and full of energy. Yet it had always been searching for something better. Though it had been one of the first to toss aside his shell, never quite satisfied with the life being led, Archibald had been among the few who had tried to return and had found that way barred. Now he was among the growing number of bitter slugs, finding themselves chained to this shelless existence. The greediness of those who wanted the best of both worlds did not factor as an issue in this slugs brain. They knew who was to blame and it was the snails. They believed that they had tricked by the slugs in some way at the meeting when the moon was opal and the sun was pink and both were visible in the sky. The slugs had thought they were clever but it seems that the snails had been cleverer. They must have known the predicament that the slugs were in before the slugs had realized themselves.
Archibald could hear the sounds of a snail orgy moving closer and sure enough into the clearing came a tumbling mass of slimy bodies and hard shells. Rolling down the embankment in a pure heaving joyous ball. Twisting bodies reaching to achieve maximum pleasure. It watched them for a while, seeing how they paid no heed to the poor slug nearby. He pondered the plight of the slugs.
Something needed to be done.
A whisper from a dark place breezed by his mind taking with it everything resting there bar one wicked seed.
Archibald knew what needed to be done.
He saw it clearly now.
It was all he could see.
Maybe things would have been different if the snails had sensed the impending doom flying their way but the undulating throng did not notice the change in the air, the shifting of the day’s mood. It was far too late when they finally heeded the atmosphere’s warnings. Archibald was already charging towards them, picking up momentum. Archibald’s body flung into the air at a perfect acute angle and made a perfectly arched path that catapulted itself into the middle of the surging mass.
Blood and terror followed and the grass soon stained with the life force of the previously copulating snails.
After the ordeal he moved betwixt the mutilated bodies removed from their shells and made his way to the popular meeting place for slugs to deliver a speech that would change the course of history for both snails and slugs.
Thursday 20 August 2009
The Realisation of the Slugs
After the shelled and shelless met when the moon was opal and the sun was pink, both visible in the grey hued sky. A bargain was struck betwixt the two parties. Both shall live as they want in harmony. The shelless to leave the snails to their peace and the snails to leave the shelless to their homeless existence. The shelless beings took a new name and from that moment they were known throughout the lands as ‘slugs’and all became well for a while
But a feeling took hold of some of the slugs as they wandered through the grass living their lives. A feeling of uncertainty, a yen for the old, a need to feel safe. They had no shell to protect them, as before, if danger came they had no smooth home to retreat within. They began to think that maybe they could have the best of both worlds. Play about in the sun without the shell and then return to their homes when they tired of playing. But who can have the best of both worlds in this life. We must have balance and parts that are dark so we understand the light when we witness it.
So with their metaphorical tails betwixt their imaginary legs they returned to the place that their shell lay, abandoned and bereft of their slug bodies. This place where they had cast of their shells leaving them as if they had been burdens of life. But these poor slugs received a shock, shells were found broken, smashed. Other creatures had inhabited the homes they had thrown away so quickly and easily for excitement. Tiny spiders had spun their delicate webs, beetles had scurried into the cracks to keep warm and stayed. Those that found their former limbs in tack, discovered that once they had separated from the shell it was not so easy to recouple with it’s smooth shiny insides. The shell did not recognize the small slimy body of the slug, it did not want to caress it as it once had, cling to it, follow it wherever the former snail had chosen to roam. Now it just stood still, in one place leaving the slug to wander on its own.
These slugs became sad and bitter. When they saw snails cajoling in their lust filled orgies they saw a red haze descend. Jealously filled their slug hearts and took away all the joy and happiness these creatures were supposed to feel. Why should they be happy in their shells when the slugs must do without.
On the surface, however, the slugs danced and smiled and sang and allowed the snails to believe that they were content in their shelless lives. Yet underneath was a different story. A black quagmire of discontent, jealousy and bitterness reigned over the slug’s minds. It undulated and surged allowing trickles to find homes in the deep caverns and passages of their brains. Till one day a slug snapped and the war began.
Here endeth the text
But a feeling took hold of some of the slugs as they wandered through the grass living their lives. A feeling of uncertainty, a yen for the old, a need to feel safe. They had no shell to protect them, as before, if danger came they had no smooth home to retreat within. They began to think that maybe they could have the best of both worlds. Play about in the sun without the shell and then return to their homes when they tired of playing. But who can have the best of both worlds in this life. We must have balance and parts that are dark so we understand the light when we witness it.
So with their metaphorical tails betwixt their imaginary legs they returned to the place that their shell lay, abandoned and bereft of their slug bodies. This place where they had cast of their shells leaving them as if they had been burdens of life. But these poor slugs received a shock, shells were found broken, smashed. Other creatures had inhabited the homes they had thrown away so quickly and easily for excitement. Tiny spiders had spun their delicate webs, beetles had scurried into the cracks to keep warm and stayed. Those that found their former limbs in tack, discovered that once they had separated from the shell it was not so easy to recouple with it’s smooth shiny insides. The shell did not recognize the small slimy body of the slug, it did not want to caress it as it once had, cling to it, follow it wherever the former snail had chosen to roam. Now it just stood still, in one place leaving the slug to wander on its own.
These slugs became sad and bitter. When they saw snails cajoling in their lust filled orgies they saw a red haze descend. Jealously filled their slug hearts and took away all the joy and happiness these creatures were supposed to feel. Why should they be happy in their shells when the slugs must do without.
On the surface, however, the slugs danced and smiled and sang and allowed the snails to believe that they were content in their shelless lives. Yet underneath was a different story. A black quagmire of discontent, jealousy and bitterness reigned over the slug’s minds. It undulated and surged allowing trickles to find homes in the deep caverns and passages of their brains. Till one day a slug snapped and the war began.
Here endeth the text
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