Qui
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So, ok. This is the story of an octopus named Harvey. I'd write a normal story, but... well, this is me. I never do anything quite right.
So Harvey was a little octopus. He'd fit in a shoebox quite comfortably, and he lived in a fair sized tide-pool. The thing about Harvey's tide-pool; water trickled in at high tide, but it was never deep enough for him to get back out to sea. He was mostly alright there, he had enough to eat and even a few funky little fish to chat with, though they where mostly too stupid to be very entertaining.
How he'd gotten there, when he was so young, was still a scar in his memory. He didn't remember. He'd been smaller then, he was still young but he'd grown, even in the confines of his pool. Harvey dreamed of the other side, he wanted to see what was out there and where the water tricked in from twice a day.
Harvey got his chance one midwinter's night, as a great storm and the highest tide of the year coalesced to raise the sea. From his cramped little pool he was swept out over the rocky ground and pulled out to sea.
Harvey was terrified, and with reason. The violent surf whirled him around and battered him against the rocky shore. Desperate, Harvey wedged himself into a crevice and held fast against the surf.
The tide ebbed and the storm died with the dawn. As the water receded, Harvey found himself battered and bruised, wedged in a small crack on the open shore. His crevice was smaller than a shoebox, and with no connection to any larger body of water Harvey was quite trapped.
There he stayed, hungry and hurt, for three long days. The sun slowly drained his crevice until he was wedged as deep in as he could get, barely submerged and only partially shaded by the small crack. On the second day, Harvey decided things couldn't get worse. But on the third day, he saw something that quickly made him change his mind.
A small human child wandered by, toting a plastic bucket and gathering shells from the tidepools. The child, clothed in deep blue, turned it's inquisitive eyes in Harvey's direction. The poor octopus cringed back into the rock, praying to the octopus goddess that the child would go away. It didn't. Now this was surely and without a doubt the worst thing that could happen to him.
The child climbed across the rough rock to reach Harvey's crevice. It squatted, looked at him, and said something. Harvey quivered, he was battered and half starved, the last thing he wanted was for something to come along and eat him. Couldn't it wait until he was dead?
Apparently not. A small hand reached for him, cautiously, then retreated. The child stood, grabbed his bucket, and clambered off across the rough ground.
Harvey relaxed back a bit, twisted himself around. The water had evaporated enough so that a small part of him now poked out of the water, and he was constantly shifting so none of his legs dried out. How awful, but at least the child had left.
And then to Harvey's dismay the child returned, clumsily stumbling over the rocks. It carried it's bucket differently now, as though it was much heavier. Harvey's heart sank, it had returned for him. He didn't resist as a small pair of hands wrapped around his soft body and pulled him from his crevice. He felt the air on his skin and closed his eyes, resigned to his fate as a post-lunch snack. But then, he was in water. He jerked, surprised by the feeling. He was in the child's bucket!
His surprise returned to fear as the bucket jolted and the child lifted it again. He gripped the bottom of the bucket with his suctioned arms to brace himself as the child ported it off to wherever they where going. The bucket jolted again as the child set it down. 'Why fight it?' thought Harvey as the hands reached for him again. He reached out with two suction arms to grasp the child's fingers as it scooped him up. It lifted him out of the bucket, held him up to get a better look. As the two younglings examined eachother, the octopus slumped and drowning for lack of water and the child curiously intrigued, the child spoke.
"Hi mister" it said, "You had no room. But now you will. I hope we can be friends, mister. I'll call you Harvey, like the guy on the tv. He's a little scary, but you're nice, cause you're my friend." The child beamed as it lowered an exhausted Harvey into a new tide-pool.
Harvey slowly retracted his arms from where they where wrapped around the child's fingers and turned to examine his new surroundings. He'd had no idea what the child had said, for unlike the human Harvey did not attend Miss Anderson's kindergarden class for five out of every seven days and did not speak or understand the english language.
He found, however, that he did enjoy the sound of the child's voice as it came to visit him every few days. The child would come down some afternoons to sit on the rocks above the pool and tell Harvey about his day. Each time the octopus would creep out from his hidey-hole to watch the child with interest, though he knew not what it was saying.
It was rather nice, Harvey though, having a child as a friend. He considered this, and decided that really anyone could be your friend, granted they don't eat you first.
So Harvey was a little octopus. He'd fit in a shoebox quite comfortably, and he lived in a fair sized tide-pool. The thing about Harvey's tide-pool; water trickled in at high tide, but it was never deep enough for him to get back out to sea. He was mostly alright there, he had enough to eat and even a few funky little fish to chat with, though they where mostly too stupid to be very entertaining.
How he'd gotten there, when he was so young, was still a scar in his memory. He didn't remember. He'd been smaller then, he was still young but he'd grown, even in the confines of his pool. Harvey dreamed of the other side, he wanted to see what was out there and where the water tricked in from twice a day.
Harvey got his chance one midwinter's night, as a great storm and the highest tide of the year coalesced to raise the sea. From his cramped little pool he was swept out over the rocky ground and pulled out to sea.
Harvey was terrified, and with reason. The violent surf whirled him around and battered him against the rocky shore. Desperate, Harvey wedged himself into a crevice and held fast against the surf.
The tide ebbed and the storm died with the dawn. As the water receded, Harvey found himself battered and bruised, wedged in a small crack on the open shore. His crevice was smaller than a shoebox, and with no connection to any larger body of water Harvey was quite trapped.
There he stayed, hungry and hurt, for three long days. The sun slowly drained his crevice until he was wedged as deep in as he could get, barely submerged and only partially shaded by the small crack. On the second day, Harvey decided things couldn't get worse. But on the third day, he saw something that quickly made him change his mind.
A small human child wandered by, toting a plastic bucket and gathering shells from the tidepools. The child, clothed in deep blue, turned it's inquisitive eyes in Harvey's direction. The poor octopus cringed back into the rock, praying to the octopus goddess that the child would go away. It didn't. Now this was surely and without a doubt the worst thing that could happen to him.
The child climbed across the rough rock to reach Harvey's crevice. It squatted, looked at him, and said something. Harvey quivered, he was battered and half starved, the last thing he wanted was for something to come along and eat him. Couldn't it wait until he was dead?
Apparently not. A small hand reached for him, cautiously, then retreated. The child stood, grabbed his bucket, and clambered off across the rough ground.
Harvey relaxed back a bit, twisted himself around. The water had evaporated enough so that a small part of him now poked out of the water, and he was constantly shifting so none of his legs dried out. How awful, but at least the child had left.
And then to Harvey's dismay the child returned, clumsily stumbling over the rocks. It carried it's bucket differently now, as though it was much heavier. Harvey's heart sank, it had returned for him. He didn't resist as a small pair of hands wrapped around his soft body and pulled him from his crevice. He felt the air on his skin and closed his eyes, resigned to his fate as a post-lunch snack. But then, he was in water. He jerked, surprised by the feeling. He was in the child's bucket!
His surprise returned to fear as the bucket jolted and the child lifted it again. He gripped the bottom of the bucket with his suctioned arms to brace himself as the child ported it off to wherever they where going. The bucket jolted again as the child set it down. 'Why fight it?' thought Harvey as the hands reached for him again. He reached out with two suction arms to grasp the child's fingers as it scooped him up. It lifted him out of the bucket, held him up to get a better look. As the two younglings examined eachother, the octopus slumped and drowning for lack of water and the child curiously intrigued, the child spoke.
"Hi mister" it said, "You had no room. But now you will. I hope we can be friends, mister. I'll call you Harvey, like the guy on the tv. He's a little scary, but you're nice, cause you're my friend." The child beamed as it lowered an exhausted Harvey into a new tide-pool.
Harvey slowly retracted his arms from where they where wrapped around the child's fingers and turned to examine his new surroundings. He'd had no idea what the child had said, for unlike the human Harvey did not attend Miss Anderson's kindergarden class for five out of every seven days and did not speak or understand the english language.
He found, however, that he did enjoy the sound of the child's voice as it came to visit him every few days. The child would come down some afternoons to sit on the rocks above the pool and tell Harvey about his day. Each time the octopus would creep out from his hidey-hole to watch the child with interest, though he knew not what it was saying.
It was rather nice, Harvey though, having a child as a friend. He considered this, and decided that really anyone could be your friend, granted they don't eat you first.
