Small Tragedies

“Each day is a blessing. Make the most of it.”

That’s what my Mama always said, and I’ve started saying that every few minutes too, because it’s the only thing that gets rid of the grumpies. It’s hard, in this new world, to stay happy when I’m all by myself.

I should have listened to Mama. Mama’s always right, especially when she said “Don’t go into the Man’s Moving Cave.” I should have listened; I shouldn’t have argued and fought with her. But it was partially Mama’s fault, because she shouldn’t have been so lenient,  letting me climb up the big black wheel of the Moving Cave, up the green, shiny rock body until I fell through a big hole and landed inside.

That was what Mama warned me about, because once you’re inside, you can’t go out. I tried though; I tried so hard, but I couldn’t find that big hole again. I heard Mama screaming the entire time I struggled, screaming “Get out, the Monsters are coming! Get out, my baby, get out!” I moved as fast as I could when I heard that, and I think I was almost at the top too, but I was too slow for them. One of the Monsters, the Men, found me.

I think it was a baby Monster, but it was still ferocious. It dragged me with its pudgy fingers and squeezed me and spun me around and around and around until I couldn’t hear Mama anymore. Until I couldn’t hear anything but the cackling of Men and the whir of their wheeled cave.

Baby Monster held on to me the whole time, in its sweaty, greasy paw. Mama wouldn’t have liked that. Mama would have wanted me to take a bath, because Monsters are disgusting. But Mama wasn’t there in the Cave. Mama wasn’t there when we stopped either, and when Baby Monster got out and let me fall through the cracks of his fingers while another Monster thundered angrily at it and gave it something to wash it’s big, filthy paw, Mama was nowhere. I was alone.

That’s how I got here.

It’s very green here though with lots of nice moist fog that rolls off of my little shell. I think if Mama and the rest of them were here, we would have had a swell time. Maybe if I can find another Moving Cave, I can bring them here. But until then, I’ll count my blessings and make the most of this place.

That’s what Mama always said to do. And from now on, I’ll be a good snail and listen to Mama. And maybe one day, I’ll get to see her again.

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For Three Word Wednesday


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