Post by TheWalkinDude on Jul 25, 2009 15:20:11 GMT
Crab Claws
By Ian Latham
William Parks put the car into neutral and shut off the engine when he was snugly on the sands of Michael Beach. The beach itself was five miles from Fort Michael, which was located on the north west coast of northern Scotland. The beach house, which was a small cottage with three rooms and small peer, used to be owned by the late Arthur Kessler. But after his death in 84’ his executor and only son became the sole owner of all the Kessler properties. By 91’ the younger Kessler began selling off the properties that he saw as ‘assets draining’.
The problem with selling the beach house was that it was the place Arthur Kessler had died, and it wasn’t a nice death. No natural causes for Arthur Kessler. He had killed him self, stepping off the banister with a noose made from fishing line around his neck. His wife, Annabelle, was found in the master bedroom. She had been dismembered with an axe and stacked in a neat pile… well neat as you can with blood pouring from severed arteries. On the wall, written in great big bloody letters, were the words:
I’ve got to feed the land crabs
Every one knew that Kessler was losing his marbles; he would come into town and buy odd things, like a whole pig from the butchers, muttering all the time about land crabs. So it was no big surprise when he and his wife were found dead. Which is, of course, the reason why the beach house was so difficult to sell. But of course something like that is bound to get sold eventually, gruesome history or not, and the young Kessler found his salvation in a middle-aged painter named William Parks.
And now William sat behind the wheel of his Ford smiling at the house that he would now be calling home. It was a nice place, and would hopefully help him with the creative block he’d had since his divorce, that the change of scenery would provide him with the inspiration he desperately needed to get working again.
After a few moments he climbed from the car and locked the doors, he stood admiring the fantastic view the beach offered and wondered at the marvellous sun rises and sun sets he was likely to see. Whole range of Technicolor delights to palpitate the senses and rekindle the flame of creativity.
He took a deep breath and smiled. Yes he thought were gonna get along just fine. William laughed out loud and walked towards the house. He fumbled in his pocket for his keys and slid it into the lock when he approached the door; it turned with a healthy snick that showed either a well-kept machine or a brand new lock. William opted for the latter but didn’t dwell on the subject. New or not he had bought the place at a reasonable price and was more than happy with it.
The interior of the house smelled of newly polished wood, a smell that William found very pleasing. The floor plan of the house was very basic. A small hallway the led to the room William was going to make his studio (which had an amazing view of the beach) and the kitchen at the back. The upper floors gave way to the bathroom, the master bedroom and a spare room, most likely William would use this room as his living room. The cottage also had a small cellar that would be just fine for storing his painting supplies.
The rooms themselves were bare other than a few things. William’s bed had been brought up and placed in the master bedroom and his painting supplies had been left in the hall for him to set up in his new studio. The rest of his belongings would be brought up over the next few days. Most of it could stay in storage, the stuff he and his… wife had bought together. For all William cared you could burn that shit.
As he toured the house William felt his stomach begin to cramp with hunger, so he decided that he was going to go into Fort Michael and get some dinner, and then maybe if he felt up to it he could start painting when he got back.
Yes he thought again with that big goofy smile splitting his face; get on like a f*cking house-a-fire! And laughed heartily.
It was nearing midnight and William sat on the porch of the beach house under the full moon with a glass of fruit juice in his hand and a contented smile on his face. All in all it had been quite a productive evening. He had gotten dinner at a small diner in Fort Michael named Dolly’s Rest Stop. It was mostly full of locals all hunched over their meals like newly released prisoners but William found it mostly delightful. Though the looks he got when he said he had bought the old Kessler place were rather unnerving, but he found the people to be very polite and rather nice company.
When he had returned home it was right around sunset. William had taken one slack-jawed look at that bloated red that hung on the horizon like a slice blood orange and had gone running for his canvas and paints. He had spent the rest of the night in a frenzy of painting, his brushes whirring up and down with satisfying swishing noises. By the time it had gotten to dark to paint he had nearly completed a rather abstract looking sunset that was indeed a blood orange against a pink/orange sky.
So with a feeling of satisfaction that he had finally made a right choice, William got up from his chair and went to bed. He lay beneath a light blanket, staring at the ceiling with a tired smile on his face, feeling himself slip slowly into a nice warm…
A dog started barking somewhere down the beach. It was actually so loud that William wasn’t sure that it wasn’t right outside his door. He snapped his eyes open, threw his cover back and padded across the room to the window. There were no streetlights anywhere on the beach and it was too dark to make anything out, but the barking sounded like it was only about a hundred yards away.
“Damn mutt!” he growled, scowling at the phantom dog that had spoiled his good mood. He walked back across the room and climbed back into bed, trying at least to recapture the warm, contented feeling he had only five minutes before.
The barking continued for at least another half hour, a half strangled yipping sound that could only be associated with stray dogs. At this point William was having doubts if he would be able to sleep with that foul noise going on just down the beach. But surprisingly he did find that his eyes began to close and the barking seemed to be getting further and further away. And as he began to drift the barking changed in pitch, becoming more frenzied as if the dog was now frightened instead of just saluting the moon. And there was a final yelp of terror and a fairly loud snicking sound and the barking stopped.
Sounded like a big pair of scissors got that mangy mutt, William though dreamily and drifted off to a warm dreamless sleep.
The following morning William rose early, he had missed the sunrise but, being that it was the middle of June and he was going to be here a while, he didn’t fret over it. He would have plenty of time to see a sunrise. After he drank his morning tea and looked over last nights work with a critical eye he decided to go for a walk down the beach and take in the seaside air. He put on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and left on bare foot. He had forgotten all about the barking in the night, at least until he found the large bloodstain in the sand. At first William wasn’t sure what he was seeing, but as he drew closer the maroon patch became clearer. And of course the first thing his mind did was to deny what it really was.
Its cranberry juice or something his mind said as he stared dumbly at the sticky patch on the sand. But eventually his rational senses got the better of his deniability and he wondered what had happened to the poor animal. He wanted it to be quiet, not slaughtered. The things that people could do these days and not feel one shred of guilt, sometimes he would feel bad if he found a spider in his house and accidentally killed it. William thought he should report it to the RSPCA but then thought better of it, whoever was responsible for the dogs demise was long gone and would not be punished. So he set of walking again, but something was troubling him, something he faintly recalled as being a giant pair of scissors. But it was a fuzzy thought so he pushed it away.
And for a further month, William did not even think about the dog or the sound of giant scissors.
Time had passed fairly quickly for William in that first month. He was painting again, which was a huge relief. He had already talked to his agent who had assured him that they would be putting on a show as soon as he had painted enough for a small show room.
“Start small, Bill,” his agent had said, “you’ve not been at it for a while so you don’t want to come across as too flashy. People will think your trying too hard.”
William, who detested being called Bill intensely, had told his agent that he would at least try and start small. But he had been painting pictures in some kind of frenzy now, like his hand was trying to keep up with his mind as it poured ideas down his forearm and straight onto the canvas so he couldn’t guarantee it. His agent had hung up after saying that no one liked a smart arse. William had stared at the handset wondering if he should invite his agent up here to have the stick removed from his own arse.
But it seemed that nothing could spoil his mood while he was here. After painting he would retire to the porch to read or just to sit and look out across the darkened beach, watching the moonlight play off the waves before they crashed to the sand.
At least until the full moon came back around.
He was sitting on the porch reading when he heard the snicking sound again. He looked up from the book and peered into the darkness, wondering why it sounded so familiar. Then it came to him.
The dog he thought I heard that the first night I was here when the dog was barking. But even with the cloudless sky the moon barely illuminated even a fraction of the beach. But he could also hear another sound, short bursts of thudding sounds that reminded him of heavy rain hitting the sand. So William decided to go for a stroll and see what was making the sounds. He retrieved his torch from the kitchen and wandered down the beach a bit, swinging the beam around in front of him. He hadn’t gotten very far when he saw it.
At first he thought that maybe someone had been digging on the beach and had piled up a large pile of sand. But as he drew nearer it began to shudder, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him when six legs about five feet in length unfolded themselves and raised the carapace of something from a fever dream. The legs began to shuffle and the thing spun slowly round, bringing William face to face with an enormous crab.
It was easily ten feet across and glared at William hungrily. Its black eyes were the size of basketballs and atop long stalks. Its mandibles twitched as it watched him standing with his mouth agape, barley able to conceal his terror. He was shaking all over and his legs felt like they were made of jelly, he was sure he was about to piss himself at the sight of this monstrosity. He felt unreality wash over him in a wave, he closed his eyes and pinched himself heard enough to cause an angry red wheal to appear on his cheek.
I must be dreaming, he thought. But when he opened his eyes again the giant crab was still there, impossibly still there.
“My… My…” he stuttered. He felt like his brain might just catch fire as it tried to rationalise the thing that stood before him.
With a lightning quick movement it lunged at him with one of its giant claws. William barely had the presence of mind to move and it just missed him. His torch beam fell along the claws open edges and he noted they were serrated. He turned and ran for his house, letting out a terrified scream.
How many he thought as he ran how many has it killed, how many has it eaten. Christ if the fire service knew about it they would save millions replacing the Jaws of Life.
William laughed at this thought, laughed the laugh of the nearly insane. This scenario had almost unhinged him completely and he suddenly remembered all the stories he’d heard about Arthur Kessler from the good people of Fort Michael.
If you knew, his mind yammered, oh if you only knew!
William finally reached his front door and ran through it, almost colliding with the frame in his haste. As he turned to slam the door he saw the crab plodding meticulously after him. It wasn’t moving very fast but it had the steady and inevitable movement of a glacier. He whimpered and slammed the door; turning the key and grinning shakily as he heard the mortis lock slide home. But his grin didn’t last long. He heard its approach and there was a loud thump causing the door to shake in its frame, it undoubtedly poked the door with one of its huge claws. William whimpered and backed away from the door, wondering what to do. A small light gleamed inside his head and almost gasped with relief.
The cellar he thought and ran along the hall. He pulled the small cellar door open and snapped on the light. The stairs were rickety but William had been down here a few times to store some of his painting supplies. He pulled the door closed behind him as he made his way down the stairs. They creaked and groaned under his weight. When he reached the bottom he pulled a small stool from under the stairs and sat down. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
Now that he wasn’t in any immediate danger of being cut in half William managed to assemble his thoughts a bit. He hadn’t seen anything since the day he found the blood on the beach, which could only mean that the crab only came out when it was full moon. What it did between then he couldn’t even speculate and would rather not, thank you very much.
But it was still up there just now, which meant that he would have to wait until sun up before he could venture out again, if he ever dared to do so.
But that’s not true is it? His mind thought treacherously, what if it figures out that the doors only made of wood. It could probably smash it to—
“Shut up.” He said to himself. “Shut up!” he raised his fists to his temples as if he was going to hit himself. But he only sat like that, rocking back and forth on the stool. But he had to admit that his thoughts were correct, if it smashed its way into the house it quite possibly could get him. So his only other option was to do something.
But what?
William opened his eyes and looked around, there wasn’t much down here in the ways of home defence against giant crabs. No spears. No harpoon guns.
Nothing.
Only his painting supplies were in evidence, those and the axe from when…
Williams eyes swung round and rested on the axe again, it was a woodsman’s axe from when there was a proper wood fireplace in the house. It wasn’t the best of choices, he would still have preferred a harpoon gun, but it would have to do. A plan began to form in his head as he stood and took the axe by its handle.
The giant crab was only an animal, a very big animal, yes, but still only an animal, and William assumed that it was nowhere near as clever as he was. Most likely it was acting on instinct and trying to find food. So that meant that it might not have figured out that there was a way out at the back of the house. If William could slip out the back door and flank it by going round the side of the house he could take it by surprise and attack it with the axe, he may even stand a chance a killing it before he was chopped into coleslaw. Grinning like Jack Nicholson from The Shining he hefted the axe before him, it wasn’t very sharp and there was rust on the blade, but if he could get one good swing at it he could do some major damage.
Here’s Johnny he thought crazily, chuckling to himself. He turned and walked towards the stairs and made his way quietly up them. At the top he paused and listened, he could still here it moving around the front of the house, clicking its claws and poking at the structure. Each thud caused the building to shake a bit, which meant that William was pressed for time, any minute now it might hit the house hard and smash something.
He opened the cellar door and slipped quietly down the hall to the kitchen. Being as careful as he could William slid the latch on the door back and slipped outside.
So far so good.
He began creeping round the side of the house, sticking to the shadows, a cool breeze was blowing causing the trees that flanked the house to rustle, the smell and sound of the sea hung in the air like mist. William thanked his lucky stars; the background noise of the beach would help mask his footsteps. He crept the corner and peered round, being careful not to be seen by the giant crab should be facing his direction. Luck, it would seem, was on his side. It was half turned away from him and trying to peer in one of the windows with one of its huge eyes, he could see it rolling around on top of the long stalk.
William stepped quickly away from the corner and crept up behind it, he was sweating profusely and worried that he might drop the axe.
When he was directly behind it he positioned himself to strike, raised the axe and screamed. His swing was true; it connected with the back end of the crab. But what William failed to realise is that a crab’s exoskeleton is made from tough chitin, and that a giant crab’s chitin would be like tank armour. The axe did hardly and damage at all, it went a few inches into the crabs back and stuck there, William barely had time to realise what was happening before the enraged crab spun round, spinning William with it. It moved so fast that he was momentarily lifted from his feet before the axe came loose and he was thrown about ten feet from the crab. He landed heavily on his back and dropped the axe; it went spinning into the dark and he lay there, dazed and defenceless.
I’m so tired he though groggily.
The crab was soon upon him; its claws were raised in an obvious fighting stance. William knew it meant to kill him and his mind screamed at him to move. When the crab was standing over him it raised one of its huge legs, it meant to skewer him like a piece of kebab on a barbeque. William watched as it reached its maximum height and began to descend with frightening speed.
MOVE! His mind screamed and he rolled sideways, the leg missed him by inches and hit the sand with a large thump. He could hear its mandibles clicking angrily as it began to turn for another strike. But William was on his feet and running, he was screaming his head off in case there was someone near by who could help him. But as the beach was five miles from town - five god dammed miles - he was completely alone. At this thought he burst into frantic tears, alone with a monster crab that was trying to eat him, if he lived through this you could bet your ass that he was never, ever, going to eat seafood again.
As William tore down the beach something snagged his leg, causing him to fall. He yelped in terror and spun round, thinking another of the big bastards was coming out of the sand and almost cried with relief.
It was the axe.
He reached for it as the crab moved furiously towards him, it towered over him and raised its leg again to complete the skewering process, should this piece of meat hold still. While its leg was rising William swung the axe as hard as he could, it connected with the crab’s second leg, right on the joint. It made a sick mewling sound and tried to back away, but the axes head was buried deep in its joint, when William pulled it free the bottom portion of its leg snapped, it tumbled sideways but managed to get its other leg down, William swung the axe again and hit it in its first leg in the same place, he had found a weak spot. When he pulled the axe free again its first leg snapped in the same place and this time nothing could right its fall. It toppled onto its side and began to move frantically.
“TIMBER!” William screamed at the crab as it lay there scrabbling at the sand. “TIMBER! MOTHERf*ckER!”
All it could really do was turn itself in circles and make a terrified chittering sound, it tried to snap at him with its claws but it was no use, William was out of its reach. He ran round to the back of the crab and brought the axe up, he swung at the crab’s underbelly and smiled as the axe head buried itself in the softer flesh there. Horrible black ooze began to pour from the wound in its belly and the crab’s cries began to rise in pitch. William pulled the axe free and swung again, and again, and again. He couldn’t tell how long he had been attacking its underside, only that when he was finished the crab was dead, its underside was a torn and broken mass of axe cuts and its hideous black blood pooled around it. Its claws were twitching slightly but William didn’t worry a bit, by the blank look of its eyes it wouldn’t bother him any more.
“Get that f*cking round you!” he muttered and sat down heavily on his ass. His arms resting on his knees and his shoulders hunched, he sat that way for a long time, dozing slightly with the sound of the waves soothing his shot nerves.
After sometime he began to hear a new sound, it was the snicking and thudding sounds he would forever associate with this dead creature in front of him. William raised his head and peered into the darkness. First there was nothing, but then he saw them. Lots of giant land crabs were skulking down the beach, moonlight reflecting off their dark carapaces. They were clicking and snapping at each other in a hungry fashion as they made their to where he now sat. And words passed across Williams mind like a beacon.
I’ve got to feed the land crabs.
The End
By Ian Latham
William Parks put the car into neutral and shut off the engine when he was snugly on the sands of Michael Beach. The beach itself was five miles from Fort Michael, which was located on the north west coast of northern Scotland. The beach house, which was a small cottage with three rooms and small peer, used to be owned by the late Arthur Kessler. But after his death in 84’ his executor and only son became the sole owner of all the Kessler properties. By 91’ the younger Kessler began selling off the properties that he saw as ‘assets draining’.
The problem with selling the beach house was that it was the place Arthur Kessler had died, and it wasn’t a nice death. No natural causes for Arthur Kessler. He had killed him self, stepping off the banister with a noose made from fishing line around his neck. His wife, Annabelle, was found in the master bedroom. She had been dismembered with an axe and stacked in a neat pile… well neat as you can with blood pouring from severed arteries. On the wall, written in great big bloody letters, were the words:
I’ve got to feed the land crabs
Every one knew that Kessler was losing his marbles; he would come into town and buy odd things, like a whole pig from the butchers, muttering all the time about land crabs. So it was no big surprise when he and his wife were found dead. Which is, of course, the reason why the beach house was so difficult to sell. But of course something like that is bound to get sold eventually, gruesome history or not, and the young Kessler found his salvation in a middle-aged painter named William Parks.
And now William sat behind the wheel of his Ford smiling at the house that he would now be calling home. It was a nice place, and would hopefully help him with the creative block he’d had since his divorce, that the change of scenery would provide him with the inspiration he desperately needed to get working again.
After a few moments he climbed from the car and locked the doors, he stood admiring the fantastic view the beach offered and wondered at the marvellous sun rises and sun sets he was likely to see. Whole range of Technicolor delights to palpitate the senses and rekindle the flame of creativity.
He took a deep breath and smiled. Yes he thought were gonna get along just fine. William laughed out loud and walked towards the house. He fumbled in his pocket for his keys and slid it into the lock when he approached the door; it turned with a healthy snick that showed either a well-kept machine or a brand new lock. William opted for the latter but didn’t dwell on the subject. New or not he had bought the place at a reasonable price and was more than happy with it.
The interior of the house smelled of newly polished wood, a smell that William found very pleasing. The floor plan of the house was very basic. A small hallway the led to the room William was going to make his studio (which had an amazing view of the beach) and the kitchen at the back. The upper floors gave way to the bathroom, the master bedroom and a spare room, most likely William would use this room as his living room. The cottage also had a small cellar that would be just fine for storing his painting supplies.
The rooms themselves were bare other than a few things. William’s bed had been brought up and placed in the master bedroom and his painting supplies had been left in the hall for him to set up in his new studio. The rest of his belongings would be brought up over the next few days. Most of it could stay in storage, the stuff he and his… wife had bought together. For all William cared you could burn that shit.
As he toured the house William felt his stomach begin to cramp with hunger, so he decided that he was going to go into Fort Michael and get some dinner, and then maybe if he felt up to it he could start painting when he got back.
Yes he thought again with that big goofy smile splitting his face; get on like a f*cking house-a-fire! And laughed heartily.
It was nearing midnight and William sat on the porch of the beach house under the full moon with a glass of fruit juice in his hand and a contented smile on his face. All in all it had been quite a productive evening. He had gotten dinner at a small diner in Fort Michael named Dolly’s Rest Stop. It was mostly full of locals all hunched over their meals like newly released prisoners but William found it mostly delightful. Though the looks he got when he said he had bought the old Kessler place were rather unnerving, but he found the people to be very polite and rather nice company.
When he had returned home it was right around sunset. William had taken one slack-jawed look at that bloated red that hung on the horizon like a slice blood orange and had gone running for his canvas and paints. He had spent the rest of the night in a frenzy of painting, his brushes whirring up and down with satisfying swishing noises. By the time it had gotten to dark to paint he had nearly completed a rather abstract looking sunset that was indeed a blood orange against a pink/orange sky.
So with a feeling of satisfaction that he had finally made a right choice, William got up from his chair and went to bed. He lay beneath a light blanket, staring at the ceiling with a tired smile on his face, feeling himself slip slowly into a nice warm…
A dog started barking somewhere down the beach. It was actually so loud that William wasn’t sure that it wasn’t right outside his door. He snapped his eyes open, threw his cover back and padded across the room to the window. There were no streetlights anywhere on the beach and it was too dark to make anything out, but the barking sounded like it was only about a hundred yards away.
“Damn mutt!” he growled, scowling at the phantom dog that had spoiled his good mood. He walked back across the room and climbed back into bed, trying at least to recapture the warm, contented feeling he had only five minutes before.
The barking continued for at least another half hour, a half strangled yipping sound that could only be associated with stray dogs. At this point William was having doubts if he would be able to sleep with that foul noise going on just down the beach. But surprisingly he did find that his eyes began to close and the barking seemed to be getting further and further away. And as he began to drift the barking changed in pitch, becoming more frenzied as if the dog was now frightened instead of just saluting the moon. And there was a final yelp of terror and a fairly loud snicking sound and the barking stopped.
Sounded like a big pair of scissors got that mangy mutt, William though dreamily and drifted off to a warm dreamless sleep.
The following morning William rose early, he had missed the sunrise but, being that it was the middle of June and he was going to be here a while, he didn’t fret over it. He would have plenty of time to see a sunrise. After he drank his morning tea and looked over last nights work with a critical eye he decided to go for a walk down the beach and take in the seaside air. He put on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and left on bare foot. He had forgotten all about the barking in the night, at least until he found the large bloodstain in the sand. At first William wasn’t sure what he was seeing, but as he drew closer the maroon patch became clearer. And of course the first thing his mind did was to deny what it really was.
Its cranberry juice or something his mind said as he stared dumbly at the sticky patch on the sand. But eventually his rational senses got the better of his deniability and he wondered what had happened to the poor animal. He wanted it to be quiet, not slaughtered. The things that people could do these days and not feel one shred of guilt, sometimes he would feel bad if he found a spider in his house and accidentally killed it. William thought he should report it to the RSPCA but then thought better of it, whoever was responsible for the dogs demise was long gone and would not be punished. So he set of walking again, but something was troubling him, something he faintly recalled as being a giant pair of scissors. But it was a fuzzy thought so he pushed it away.
And for a further month, William did not even think about the dog or the sound of giant scissors.
Time had passed fairly quickly for William in that first month. He was painting again, which was a huge relief. He had already talked to his agent who had assured him that they would be putting on a show as soon as he had painted enough for a small show room.
“Start small, Bill,” his agent had said, “you’ve not been at it for a while so you don’t want to come across as too flashy. People will think your trying too hard.”
William, who detested being called Bill intensely, had told his agent that he would at least try and start small. But he had been painting pictures in some kind of frenzy now, like his hand was trying to keep up with his mind as it poured ideas down his forearm and straight onto the canvas so he couldn’t guarantee it. His agent had hung up after saying that no one liked a smart arse. William had stared at the handset wondering if he should invite his agent up here to have the stick removed from his own arse.
But it seemed that nothing could spoil his mood while he was here. After painting he would retire to the porch to read or just to sit and look out across the darkened beach, watching the moonlight play off the waves before they crashed to the sand.
At least until the full moon came back around.
He was sitting on the porch reading when he heard the snicking sound again. He looked up from the book and peered into the darkness, wondering why it sounded so familiar. Then it came to him.
The dog he thought I heard that the first night I was here when the dog was barking. But even with the cloudless sky the moon barely illuminated even a fraction of the beach. But he could also hear another sound, short bursts of thudding sounds that reminded him of heavy rain hitting the sand. So William decided to go for a stroll and see what was making the sounds. He retrieved his torch from the kitchen and wandered down the beach a bit, swinging the beam around in front of him. He hadn’t gotten very far when he saw it.
At first he thought that maybe someone had been digging on the beach and had piled up a large pile of sand. But as he drew nearer it began to shudder, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him when six legs about five feet in length unfolded themselves and raised the carapace of something from a fever dream. The legs began to shuffle and the thing spun slowly round, bringing William face to face with an enormous crab.
It was easily ten feet across and glared at William hungrily. Its black eyes were the size of basketballs and atop long stalks. Its mandibles twitched as it watched him standing with his mouth agape, barley able to conceal his terror. He was shaking all over and his legs felt like they were made of jelly, he was sure he was about to piss himself at the sight of this monstrosity. He felt unreality wash over him in a wave, he closed his eyes and pinched himself heard enough to cause an angry red wheal to appear on his cheek.
I must be dreaming, he thought. But when he opened his eyes again the giant crab was still there, impossibly still there.
“My… My…” he stuttered. He felt like his brain might just catch fire as it tried to rationalise the thing that stood before him.
With a lightning quick movement it lunged at him with one of its giant claws. William barely had the presence of mind to move and it just missed him. His torch beam fell along the claws open edges and he noted they were serrated. He turned and ran for his house, letting out a terrified scream.
How many he thought as he ran how many has it killed, how many has it eaten. Christ if the fire service knew about it they would save millions replacing the Jaws of Life.
William laughed at this thought, laughed the laugh of the nearly insane. This scenario had almost unhinged him completely and he suddenly remembered all the stories he’d heard about Arthur Kessler from the good people of Fort Michael.
If you knew, his mind yammered, oh if you only knew!
William finally reached his front door and ran through it, almost colliding with the frame in his haste. As he turned to slam the door he saw the crab plodding meticulously after him. It wasn’t moving very fast but it had the steady and inevitable movement of a glacier. He whimpered and slammed the door; turning the key and grinning shakily as he heard the mortis lock slide home. But his grin didn’t last long. He heard its approach and there was a loud thump causing the door to shake in its frame, it undoubtedly poked the door with one of its huge claws. William whimpered and backed away from the door, wondering what to do. A small light gleamed inside his head and almost gasped with relief.
The cellar he thought and ran along the hall. He pulled the small cellar door open and snapped on the light. The stairs were rickety but William had been down here a few times to store some of his painting supplies. He pulled the door closed behind him as he made his way down the stairs. They creaked and groaned under his weight. When he reached the bottom he pulled a small stool from under the stairs and sat down. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
Now that he wasn’t in any immediate danger of being cut in half William managed to assemble his thoughts a bit. He hadn’t seen anything since the day he found the blood on the beach, which could only mean that the crab only came out when it was full moon. What it did between then he couldn’t even speculate and would rather not, thank you very much.
But it was still up there just now, which meant that he would have to wait until sun up before he could venture out again, if he ever dared to do so.
But that’s not true is it? His mind thought treacherously, what if it figures out that the doors only made of wood. It could probably smash it to—
“Shut up.” He said to himself. “Shut up!” he raised his fists to his temples as if he was going to hit himself. But he only sat like that, rocking back and forth on the stool. But he had to admit that his thoughts were correct, if it smashed its way into the house it quite possibly could get him. So his only other option was to do something.
But what?
William opened his eyes and looked around, there wasn’t much down here in the ways of home defence against giant crabs. No spears. No harpoon guns.
Nothing.
Only his painting supplies were in evidence, those and the axe from when…
Williams eyes swung round and rested on the axe again, it was a woodsman’s axe from when there was a proper wood fireplace in the house. It wasn’t the best of choices, he would still have preferred a harpoon gun, but it would have to do. A plan began to form in his head as he stood and took the axe by its handle.
The giant crab was only an animal, a very big animal, yes, but still only an animal, and William assumed that it was nowhere near as clever as he was. Most likely it was acting on instinct and trying to find food. So that meant that it might not have figured out that there was a way out at the back of the house. If William could slip out the back door and flank it by going round the side of the house he could take it by surprise and attack it with the axe, he may even stand a chance a killing it before he was chopped into coleslaw. Grinning like Jack Nicholson from The Shining he hefted the axe before him, it wasn’t very sharp and there was rust on the blade, but if he could get one good swing at it he could do some major damage.
Here’s Johnny he thought crazily, chuckling to himself. He turned and walked towards the stairs and made his way quietly up them. At the top he paused and listened, he could still here it moving around the front of the house, clicking its claws and poking at the structure. Each thud caused the building to shake a bit, which meant that William was pressed for time, any minute now it might hit the house hard and smash something.
He opened the cellar door and slipped quietly down the hall to the kitchen. Being as careful as he could William slid the latch on the door back and slipped outside.
So far so good.
He began creeping round the side of the house, sticking to the shadows, a cool breeze was blowing causing the trees that flanked the house to rustle, the smell and sound of the sea hung in the air like mist. William thanked his lucky stars; the background noise of the beach would help mask his footsteps. He crept the corner and peered round, being careful not to be seen by the giant crab should be facing his direction. Luck, it would seem, was on his side. It was half turned away from him and trying to peer in one of the windows with one of its huge eyes, he could see it rolling around on top of the long stalk.
William stepped quickly away from the corner and crept up behind it, he was sweating profusely and worried that he might drop the axe.
When he was directly behind it he positioned himself to strike, raised the axe and screamed. His swing was true; it connected with the back end of the crab. But what William failed to realise is that a crab’s exoskeleton is made from tough chitin, and that a giant crab’s chitin would be like tank armour. The axe did hardly and damage at all, it went a few inches into the crabs back and stuck there, William barely had time to realise what was happening before the enraged crab spun round, spinning William with it. It moved so fast that he was momentarily lifted from his feet before the axe came loose and he was thrown about ten feet from the crab. He landed heavily on his back and dropped the axe; it went spinning into the dark and he lay there, dazed and defenceless.
I’m so tired he though groggily.
The crab was soon upon him; its claws were raised in an obvious fighting stance. William knew it meant to kill him and his mind screamed at him to move. When the crab was standing over him it raised one of its huge legs, it meant to skewer him like a piece of kebab on a barbeque. William watched as it reached its maximum height and began to descend with frightening speed.
MOVE! His mind screamed and he rolled sideways, the leg missed him by inches and hit the sand with a large thump. He could hear its mandibles clicking angrily as it began to turn for another strike. But William was on his feet and running, he was screaming his head off in case there was someone near by who could help him. But as the beach was five miles from town - five god dammed miles - he was completely alone. At this thought he burst into frantic tears, alone with a monster crab that was trying to eat him, if he lived through this you could bet your ass that he was never, ever, going to eat seafood again.
As William tore down the beach something snagged his leg, causing him to fall. He yelped in terror and spun round, thinking another of the big bastards was coming out of the sand and almost cried with relief.
It was the axe.
He reached for it as the crab moved furiously towards him, it towered over him and raised its leg again to complete the skewering process, should this piece of meat hold still. While its leg was rising William swung the axe as hard as he could, it connected with the crab’s second leg, right on the joint. It made a sick mewling sound and tried to back away, but the axes head was buried deep in its joint, when William pulled it free the bottom portion of its leg snapped, it tumbled sideways but managed to get its other leg down, William swung the axe again and hit it in its first leg in the same place, he had found a weak spot. When he pulled the axe free again its first leg snapped in the same place and this time nothing could right its fall. It toppled onto its side and began to move frantically.
“TIMBER!” William screamed at the crab as it lay there scrabbling at the sand. “TIMBER! MOTHERf*ckER!”
All it could really do was turn itself in circles and make a terrified chittering sound, it tried to snap at him with its claws but it was no use, William was out of its reach. He ran round to the back of the crab and brought the axe up, he swung at the crab’s underbelly and smiled as the axe head buried itself in the softer flesh there. Horrible black ooze began to pour from the wound in its belly and the crab’s cries began to rise in pitch. William pulled the axe free and swung again, and again, and again. He couldn’t tell how long he had been attacking its underside, only that when he was finished the crab was dead, its underside was a torn and broken mass of axe cuts and its hideous black blood pooled around it. Its claws were twitching slightly but William didn’t worry a bit, by the blank look of its eyes it wouldn’t bother him any more.
“Get that f*cking round you!” he muttered and sat down heavily on his ass. His arms resting on his knees and his shoulders hunched, he sat that way for a long time, dozing slightly with the sound of the waves soothing his shot nerves.
After sometime he began to hear a new sound, it was the snicking and thudding sounds he would forever associate with this dead creature in front of him. William raised his head and peered into the darkness. First there was nothing, but then he saw them. Lots of giant land crabs were skulking down the beach, moonlight reflecting off their dark carapaces. They were clicking and snapping at each other in a hungry fashion as they made their to where he now sat. And words passed across Williams mind like a beacon.
I’ve got to feed the land crabs.
The End