Lobster? I hardly know 'er!
Posted: Sat Jun 01, 2019 12:49 am
She was alone.
But that was fine. Catherine felt better when she was alone.
G057 - CATHERINE ZIER: ISLAND START
Not that there was anything to feel good about in this situation, but it made it slightly better that she didn't have to deal with anyone else. She didn't really want to deal with anyone else. Catherine took a few deep breaths as she gathered her surroundings. Not too far away were two bags. From here she could just barely make out that one of them had her name written on it. So those were hers, then.
As she got closer, though, she realized that no, they hadn't given her two bags, they'd given her three. And one of them had something moving inside of it.
So she wasn't totally alone, then. But a lobster was not the same thing as another person. Lobsters couldn't talk. Lobsters couldn't be loud, or brash, or obnoxious. Lobsters... well, the had no concept of personal space, she supposed, but they didn't constantly try to violate it. Most importantly, lobsters weren't overbearing and tiring to deal with, especially one trapped in a plastic bag.
She knelt down, staring at the lobster in the bag. It was a lot like her, she supposed. Trapped in a situation it couldn't get itself out of. She idly poked at the bag. The lobster didn't react too much.
And so she considered her options. She didn't want to carry it around, but she also didn't want to leave it here, either. She felt bad for the thing. Unlike her, though, there was a way she could get the lobster out of its prison. She knew that they had to be on some sort of island.
So she picked all of her things up as best she could and began to walk.
It didn't take too long to reach a body of water. She looked out to the horizon as she stood on the sandy beach. After a few seconds of deliberation, she took off her boots, then her tights, laying them neatly on the sand, among the hundreds of other shoes washed up on the beach. She didn't really question why there were so many; she wasn't going to get an answer and frankly that wasn't what she was here for. She hoped her stuff wouldn't get too sandied up from just lying there but she knew better then that, really, and it was still better than getting them soaked.
She slowly walked into the water, before submerging the bag and untying it, slowly pulling the bag away as the lobster scuttled the side.
"There you go," she said, before stepping back.
The lobster stayed still for a few seconds, before moving away from the shore. Catherine took a few steps back, before leaving the water altogether. Gathering up her things again, she moved up further inland, over to the large, non-sandy floor she'd spotted up near the end of the beach. It'd be a good place as any to dry her feet and clean the sand off. As she sat on one of the chairs, she idly looked out onto the sea. She didn't know where they were. What was she hoping to see? Boats, maybe? A rescue crew? But that was probably naive of her. There was a slim chance that they'd come. There was also a chance that this was all a bad dream, and that she'd blink and suddenly find herself back on the bus, in Chattanooga, and everything would be fine.
But that never happened. And eventually her feet were dry and clean enough that she put her tights and boots back on.
Well. She finished what she came here to do, and now... now what? She didn't know. She didn't really want to think about it. Right now, she wanted to move on, to go somewhere else.
Yeah. That seemed like a good idea. She'd focus on one short-term goal at a time.
((Catherine Zier continued in The Sky Is Falling, So Pull Up A Chair.))
But that was fine. Catherine felt better when she was alone.
G057 - CATHERINE ZIER: ISLAND START
Not that there was anything to feel good about in this situation, but it made it slightly better that she didn't have to deal with anyone else. She didn't really want to deal with anyone else. Catherine took a few deep breaths as she gathered her surroundings. Not too far away were two bags. From here she could just barely make out that one of them had her name written on it. So those were hers, then.
As she got closer, though, she realized that no, they hadn't given her two bags, they'd given her three. And one of them had something moving inside of it.
So she wasn't totally alone, then. But a lobster was not the same thing as another person. Lobsters couldn't talk. Lobsters couldn't be loud, or brash, or obnoxious. Lobsters... well, the had no concept of personal space, she supposed, but they didn't constantly try to violate it. Most importantly, lobsters weren't overbearing and tiring to deal with, especially one trapped in a plastic bag.
She knelt down, staring at the lobster in the bag. It was a lot like her, she supposed. Trapped in a situation it couldn't get itself out of. She idly poked at the bag. The lobster didn't react too much.
And so she considered her options. She didn't want to carry it around, but she also didn't want to leave it here, either. She felt bad for the thing. Unlike her, though, there was a way she could get the lobster out of its prison. She knew that they had to be on some sort of island.
So she picked all of her things up as best she could and began to walk.
It didn't take too long to reach a body of water. She looked out to the horizon as she stood on the sandy beach. After a few seconds of deliberation, she took off her boots, then her tights, laying them neatly on the sand, among the hundreds of other shoes washed up on the beach. She didn't really question why there were so many; she wasn't going to get an answer and frankly that wasn't what she was here for. She hoped her stuff wouldn't get too sandied up from just lying there but she knew better then that, really, and it was still better than getting them soaked.
She slowly walked into the water, before submerging the bag and untying it, slowly pulling the bag away as the lobster scuttled the side.
"There you go," she said, before stepping back.
The lobster stayed still for a few seconds, before moving away from the shore. Catherine took a few steps back, before leaving the water altogether. Gathering up her things again, she moved up further inland, over to the large, non-sandy floor she'd spotted up near the end of the beach. It'd be a good place as any to dry her feet and clean the sand off. As she sat on one of the chairs, she idly looked out onto the sea. She didn't know where they were. What was she hoping to see? Boats, maybe? A rescue crew? But that was probably naive of her. There was a slim chance that they'd come. There was also a chance that this was all a bad dream, and that she'd blink and suddenly find herself back on the bus, in Chattanooga, and everything would be fine.
But that never happened. And eventually her feet were dry and clean enough that she put her tights and boots back on.
Well. She finished what she came here to do, and now... now what? She didn't know. She didn't really want to think about it. Right now, she wanted to move on, to go somewhere else.
Yeah. That seemed like a good idea. She'd focus on one short-term goal at a time.
((Catherine Zier continued in The Sky Is Falling, So Pull Up A Chair.))