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It was one of those perfect lazy summer evenings where Elliott felt content. He was still new to Pelican Town. Barely settled into his cabin, but the people were kind and he was starting to make friends.
On nights like this, he chose to spend some of that time with his newly acquired friend, Willy. Normally he could find the older fisherman smoking his pipe and watching the sunset from the bench outside his shop, but today he seemed more excited than normal.
“Greetings my good mariner! What has your thoughts so preoccupied this evening?”
It’s not until Elliott sits and Willy feels the slats of the wooden bench shift beneath him, does he realize someone else has arrived.
“Oh lad, it’s you. Forgive an old sea dog his manners. Head’s wrapped around the new bait I be concocting. Wanted to lure some lovely ladies into the crab pots, but they ain’t bitin’. That’s gonna change after tonight.” He gives Elliott a wink, holding up a mysteriously pungent bucket like the greatest of pirate treasures. He pats it gently and places it back down.
“Ye might want to ensure your windows are sealed this evenin’, lad. There’s magic in the air. I can feel it.”
The two men enjoy each other’s company, as the sun sets, but it’s clear to Elliott that Willy’s mind is elsewhere. Chalking up his odd behaviour to a delightful display of passion for the art of fishing, he bids his friend a good night, deciding to call it in early himself.
More and more often as of late, Elliott has been spending his nights writing until the thin hours of the morning stretch before him. Tonight, he decides, he will allow himself the luxury of recharging and set about to the task of his writing tomorrow, fresh and completely rejuvenated.
He's not sure the hour when the rain starts. Only that the patter and soft tink tink of droplets on his roof is soothing. Elliott has the window cracked a smidge, assuming Willy’s earlier cautionary warning was in jest, and is relishing in the lap of waves and smell of salt air as he begins to drift off to sleep.
Soon enough, he’s dreaming about the downpour. Standing in it. Running in it. Closing his eyes and turning his face up to the heavens as it rains down upon him. He can practically feel the droplets crawling along his skin.
It’s so realistic, in fact, that it pulls him from his dream. Pulls him to that confused place between sleep and waking where he’s not sure if it is rain… or something else.
Elliott cracks an eyelid and peeks down at his torso with a laugh; because surely this must be a dream. There are crabs everywhere. Three on his chest, several more on his legs and blanket, even an industrious one sidestepping through the cascade of hair across his pillow.
He laughs, at least, until he realizes the dream isn’t actually a dream. That the warm, cocooned safety of his imagination bubble has popped as he hears the creak of his window and realizes it’s because crustaceans of all sizes are crawling in, pushing the pane open even further with each scuttle of their tiny legs.
Elliott flings himself from the bed, blankets pooling on the floor, and lets out a scream. It’s not quite terror, it’s not quite disgust, but the sound that he emits from his lungs is a confused kind of incredulity that only comes from a brain still frazzled by sleep.
Because there is a mob of crabs currently overtaking his cabin.
~*~
It’s a long, arduous morning when Willy finally sends for Gus, realizing he might have bitten off more than he could chew.
His shack is full of crabs.
Crabs crawling on counters, feasting in the tubs of bait he kept up front, and even somehow finding their way into his favourite pair of work boots. They’re splashing in his wash basin, bobbing in the boathouse out back and are almost everywhere underfoot by the time the two men tackle cleanup.
Gus appears immensely pleased, holding a full basket of wriggling crabs as Willy laughs with a sheepish grin.
“What can I say? Guess the old girls ‘ran wild’ last night… heh…”
Gus looks like he’s about to say something in response when a knock at the door interrupts them.
“Wonder who that could be so early,” Willy muses, pulling back the latch with a shocked gasp.
Elliott is standing there in flannel pajama pants and a terrycloth robe. It’s hanging open, askew. Actually, in retrospect, his entire person seems to be misaligned. Clothes rumpled, hair a monumental tangle of red illuminated by the sunrise behind him, and a crazed, exhausted look in his eye that would suggest he had been on an all-night writing bender.
“Were you aware, my friend,” he begins “That your crab bait was so potent, that the simple act of keeping you company on the docks last night transferred its pungency to me?”
Willy notes how he can see the whites of Elliott’s eyes, and the soft tick of incredulity in the set of his jaw. He tries dearly to suppress a laugh when a crab pokes its head out of the pocket of his robe.
“No lad, I wasn’t. I promise ye,” he chokes out, not daring to look at Gus who’s shoulders he notes, are shaking out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve been experimentin’ and this was me first batch. Guess I’ll dial back the potency for me next one.”
Elliott straightens his back like he’s the most dignified gentleman at a party and tugs on the lapels of his housecoat. “Yes, well. Please keep that in mind, William.” He nods to his friend, giving a formal little bow of acknowledgement to Gus, but as he tips his head, a crab falls from his hair and lands with a soft thunk to the docks below.
A long, suffering sigh can be heard from Elliott as he shakes his head in defeat.
“Gus, please call me the moment you have crab cakes on the menu. I find I have a surprising taste for vengeance,” he says before turning on his heels and walking away with his head held high.
The funny thing about crabs on your person though, is that they tend to attract seagulls, and it’s not long before Gus and Willy a gasping with laughter as Elliott runs for the cover of his cabin, a flock of roving gulls hot on his heels and a string of curse words falling from his lips.
“At least the lad will have a new experience to write about,” he mutters remorsefully as Gus once again, doubles over in laughter.