Monday, January 3, 2011

Sid and the Snail Jail

I may have mentioned that a number of years ago I did some study in comprehensive writing. This included writing quite a few very short stories around 800 to 1200 words. I must say, writing something worth reading in that few words is a massive challenge. It's very interesting to write a short story to discover it's 3000 words then try to cut everything you can out of it to get it to 2200. Then try again to get it to 2000, but feel like you couldn't possibly cut more, just to end up editing with proverbial industrial power tools and get it down to a 1200 word story or less.

This is one of the ones I wrote and I've decided to post it as it sticks with my current motivational theme. Adults can definitely get something out of the story but it was actually written as a children's story, although fails slightly in that regard I think in terms of language. If it was being read to a child rather than read by a child it might be OK. The reader would have to know what I was shooting for with the cockney-type English accent on the Stink Bug character though.

So have a read and please comment, as I'd love to know what you think. It's not long. Just a little fun read with a simple life lesson that we can all learn from.



                                     Sid and the Snail Jail                                                         


“Get out of the rain, Christopher, or you’ll catch ya death o’ cold.” The commanding voice cut through the droning rain.
“Awww, Mum – but there’s soooo many snails around and the ducks love snails!” the boy pleaded as he grabbed another snail and put it in his terracotta pot.
            “They’ll still be around after the rain stops. They won’t just disappear. Put your pot face down over them. If you hurry you can have some hot cookies.”
            The boy found a sudden need to be obedient and ran inside, leaving his ‘snail jail’ out in the garden. 

* * * * *

            “This is just great, Sid! First chance we’ve had to get out for weeks and now we’re stuck in here, soon to be a duck’s appetiser.” Sam’s antennae sagged.
            “Well, there’s no use just sitting here and getting upset about it. We should try to find some way of escaping.” Sid stretched his neck out of his shell and examined their snail jail. “Look up the top, Sam. Holes. Maybe we can get through them?”
            Sid took off up the snail jail wall at full snail pace. Others had also spotted this small window of opportunity and soon all four holes had a snail head sticking through them.
            Sid groaned and grunted, trying to push his rigid shell through the small hole. “There’s no way I’ll ever get my shell through that hole, Sam. No two ways about it. And I’m the smallest snail in here.”
            He craned his neck around outside the hole, looking through the rain for a possible saviour, but there was no-one. “Can anyone please help us? We’re gonna be duck food! H-e-e-e-lp!” he screamed, but no reply came. “No-one will be able to hear me above this rain.” He whispered to himself as he slid his head back through the hole and retracted back into his shell. “You’re right, Sam, we’re gonna be duck food.”
They were heading slowly back to the floor of the jail when a voice called from behind them, “Did one o’ you snails call fur ’elp?”
Sid turned to see the front end of a young stink bug poking through the hole. “Yeah, I did. But how could you possibly help us?”
“I d’know. You’ll have t’explain yer predicament.”
“Isn’t it obvious? We’re stuck in here! And after the rain stops we’re being fed to ducks!” Sid could feel his desperation growing with each moment. “If we could just fit our shells though those holes…”
The little bug examined the hole. “Well, if at’s the case then you’re right – there’s nofink I can do. Sounds like yer can ‘elp yerself though – jus’ leave yer shell be’ind. If it weren’ for all tha’ baggage yer’d be ‘ome free, mate! Sure, yer’d be more a slug than a snail, but yer’d be a live slug. A change never ‘urt no-one.”
Some other snails were listening in and a wrinkled old snail butted in. “What you’re proposing simply isn’t possible. In all my years I’ve never seen a snail leave its shell behind. And besides, we need our shells to hide in.” The old snail grumbled.
The little stink bug strode right up to the large crotchety snail. “Yer might never’a seen no-one leave their shell be’ind but I bet yer also never seen no-one try n’leave it be’ind, eh?”
“Well…maybe not but only because I’ve never met anyone stupid enough to try. Some things simply just are. No two ways about it.” He stretched his neck out stiffly. “I can hear the rain easing so the boy could be back any moment anyhow. Now go take your so-called ‘elp’ elsewhere.”
“O.K. then gramps. Don’ strain anyfink. I got plenny of beh’a finks ado than listen to the drivel of a secon’ rate entrĂ©e.” The bug turned and headed for the hole but stopped for a moment and looked back over his shoulder. “Yer know, my grandpa once said that wha’ lies before us and wha’ lies be’ind us are tiny matters compared with wha’ lies within us.” He kept walking.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The old snail said spitefully.
“I’s ‘opin’ yer might be able a tell me, actually?” He chuckled, and then flew off.
“The rain’s stopped, Sid. We’re doomed!” Sam grabbed Sid’s antennae with his and shook him. “Are you listening to me space cadet!”
“What…sorry.” Sid’s snapped out of it. “I was just thinking about what that bug said. I’ve never actually seen a snail try to leave its shell behind, so how do I know we can’t?”
“You heard the old guy; it’s just the way it is, no two ways about it…”
“But Sam, it wouldn’t hurt to at least try, and if we all help each other I think we can do it.” Sid stuck his neck up high in excitement. “I say we give it a go!” He shouted to everyone. “It’s what’s within us that counts, not what’s behind or what’s ahead or what we carry on our backs.” The snails responded with shouts and hollers.
“You know, Sid, you’re right!” shouted Sam. “We can do this!”

* * * * *
             “Mum, Mum, look in my pot!” The boy’s feet beat against the wooden floor as he ran inside, shouting at the top of his lungs. “There’s just empty shells! The snails have all disappeared – well, except a big one with a faded lookin’ shell. He can come meet the ducks.”

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