Sword Fight With A Crab

By Stephanie Daich

I go to the beach to escape committing more murder.

I take in the ocean’s revitalizing air to think clearly. The salty waves sting the broken blisters on my feet. I dip my hands into the water, wishing I could wash the metaphorical blood from them, and the coldness sends shivers over my body.

“Don’t ever regret any life you take,” my dad had instructed me. “Delivering death is your duty, your right.”

My dad was responsible for over eight million deaths in his lifetime. I know he never lost sleep over one of them. I carry the slaughter of five thousand men and children, and I have developed an ulcer because of it. I feel the cries from the ground; they haunt me. Their whispers beyond the grave.

Maybe I will build a ship out of driftwood and drift away, far away, where I will never have to make a decision again. I pick up a log, and a horseshoe crab crawls from the underside and onto my arm. The sharp shell scrapes against my skin, leaving a red trail.

I chuck the crab to the sand and slam the log down to it. The crab’s telson lifts high to my log, and he parries my water-logged branch with impeccable fencing skills. Within seconds, my log flies out of my hand.

“Dear King, do not kill me,” the sage of creatures pleads.

I stumble backward, my hands dropping behind me in the surf.

“I don’t understand,” I mutter. The crab scrambles to me with his telson pointed toward my chest. Will the most powerful king who ever lived die by the spine of a crab?

I grab my log and charge for the arthropod. “You won’t deprive my kingdom of its greatest leader!”

“Spare my life.”

“Why should I?” I ask, lowering my arms. Could I kill a talking magical creature?

“If you spare me, then I will impart wisdom to you.”

“You? Impart wisdom to me? I have twenty-two advisors. I am the grandest king. It is you who should beg of my wisdom. What makes yours superior?”

“I am one of the oldest living creatures on this earth. I am over four million years old.” The crab lowers his telson.

I sigh and shake my head. “Your ancestors, perhaps. My royal line is just as impressive, if not more.”

“Dear King, yes, my kind has been around for millions of years, but I myself am the first horseshoe crab formed out of the mud of the earth.”

“You? I highly doubt as much.”

“Why would you doubt me? How do I speak? Have you ever met another animal who possessed the human language?”

“No.”

“Well, if you believe your ears and trust that I am capable of speaking, then you should trust my age.”

I study the creepy spider-like crustacean. Will it harm me to consider his message?

“I will listen as long as you keep your telson lowered. But if you threaten me even once, I will take your life.”

“Sounds fair,” the horseshoe crab says.

“What is your name?” I ask.

“I have no need of a name, for who would speak it?”

“I, perhaps.”

“Nonetheless, I have no name.”

I almost name him, but that is an honor only procured upon knights in my kingdom. I would not grace him with a name from my lips. Nevertheless, I grow tired of our encounter. “Do share your wisdom before I bash your shell.”

“The king who rules by empathy and not by death is the greatest king of all.”

I dig my toe into the sand. “That’s stupid. I spared your life for that?”

“Dear King, I have seen many thousands of rulers in my lifetime. I promise you. The greatest kings have compassion for all life. They care for their subjects, and in return, their subjects more willingly give all they have for the crown.”

“What do I care? I can just seize all that I desire.”

“It makes a difference, Dear King. If your people love you, they support you. They protect you. They defend you. If they fear you, then your kingdom will fall.”

I suddenly want to bash the crab. “How stupid. My father ruled by fear, and we have added five kingdoms to our boundaries because of him. He did not fall.”

“But, his bloodline will.”

“I will be the finest king yet to rule!”

“Only you will decide that.”

The crab must die, I think. His words are too foreign—frightening, even. What if he speaks them to someone else, some usurper who wishes to rule in my place? But, I remember why I came to the beach. I just killed five hundred prisoners of war. Well, not me personally, but I had them killed. It… unsettles me. I hate it.

The crab’s small black eyes seem to study me. Waiting.

I kill to keep my kingdom in thrall. That’s how the previous kings—my ancestors—have ruled. That is how I rule. I brandish the log and, with all my force, bring it down toward the crab. But at the last moment, I chuck it into the ocean. I curse out at the waves, then take a deep breath and turn back to the crab.

“Could you teach me? For violence is all I know,” I say, the words spill out almost like a sob.

“Place me in your brackish pond, and I will be the greatest advisor you have ever known.”

“Promise not to poke me with your telson,” I say as I lift him into my hands.

I came to the beach to settle my mind from the murders, and now I return to my kingdom with a better way.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Stephanie Daich sees life as a gift. When she isn’t writing, she fills her time with family, nursing, and hobbies. Her nursing has opened doors to her serving a diverse range of populations. She refines her character by training MMA with world champions. Stephanie often escapes into the mountains or hits the pavement with her running shoes. She uses these opportunities to write about the human experience.