Silf Len

The sun was setting between the creature’s pincers. They had always been there, his whole life, and had never moved in any way, but Tamnir still felt wary. His parents, siblings and neighbors had all spiced his youth with tales of the creature coming to life, shaking itself free of the sand and stalking the coast during cloudy nights.

As if he needed more than his own imagination.

The creature must have come from somewhere, have had parents, didn’t it? Where was the rest of its body? How big was it actually?

Tamnir stretched his legs, but quickly placed them back on the rock surface they had warmed.

Passing nutshell sailors often boasted of encounters with crabs, but mostly after several glasses of berry wine, and with that scaring-little-kids glint in their eyes. Nobody in Silf Len took them seriously, but sailors paid well and stories entertained. Tamnir was certain though, that more lay beyond the horizon than was believed by his family. The Great Puddle teemed with mysteries, and he itched to pierce them.

Cold winds now came after the sun’s disappearance. Tamnir gave the crab a last cautionary look, in a way almost willing it to move, and headed back home.