Winner of the 500-words Love Story Contest: Tell me the Truth about Limpets by Athene Farrington
The Limpet wondered at its own sucking existence bounded between mantle and rock. It felt itself small and only.
Limpets' eyes see only the light from the dark, everything in between is imagination and vibration. Each one is the sun and moon of its own cup.
Limpets wear their heartless hearts on their soles and their souls are porous. Limpets are perfectly proportioned, like an ear.
Like an ear, The Limpet's little umbrella collected sounds into thoughts from sea to rock. Sometimes the sound of its own feeding thoughts scraped too harshly at the algae and all other sounds were lost. But when the sea found its way in, in flecks of spray playfully bounced from rock to shell, the limpet paused to laugh in its soft under-things. The Limpet was soothed listening the sea's musings, feeling itself touched in cryptic little notes. The Limpet thought the sea's wetness a whispering wisdom, sometimes The Limpet heard the sea's wash as the singing of its own soul. Sometimes the sea's roaring was such that it flooded and threatened to sweep The Limpet off its foot,
Limpets are nervy and when they are disturbed, cling.
The Limpet would not let itself be washed away. Foot to rock, it held fast and was proud for a moment.
It thought it heard the sea, 'I promised to love you dear, but I must be leaving.'
When the sea was lost to the tide again, The Limpet regretted its limpet nature and clattered it's teeth against the rock, trying to fill it's shell with feeding thoughts until the sea returned. The Limpet was angry that the sea wouldn't stop when The Limpet wanted to be quiet.
When the sea returned in the less light, The Limpet buzzed itself harder against the rock and hugged it's mantle closer. The sea responded in caresses of hushing, shushing tones that lulled the limpet to calm.
'Hear them purring'
Funny, the limpet had never thought of itself as more than one.
Said The Limpet to the sea, 'You so lithe and liquid-everywhere and myself a mumbling pucker, one of many, do you share yourself with them all?'
The sea whispered, 'All that lives may love.'
The Limpet felt smaller still and, humbled, it rasped its tongue in response.
Limpets have sharp tongues covered in teeth.
When the sea returned, it summoned itself gentle and distant.
But between the many chitinous teeth that coat it, the ribbon-like tongue is soft.
The sea came lapping back trickling secrets learnt from the other side of the blue:
'Your spiral speaks galaxies wider than me, little limpet. All that lives may love'
The Limpet looked up into its cup and settled into its limpet self, in its limpet place. Scraping tooth against rock it communes with the sea, nuzzling the waves as they arrive twice daily.
Listen closely and you'll hear how the tiny world of lovers purrs; its little vibrations never wearying.
by Athene Farrington