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Rated: E · Short Story · Children's · #1624158
The opening of a short story in writing..I have more to follow....
Dr Nicholl’s Great Adventure.
Somewhere in the dead calm of night, in the middle of the vast starlit ocean, a large seashell, the size of a small van, drifted in no particular direction. What looked like a crooked television arial stuck up and a flickering white light could be seen from within. As you move closer to the shell you realise that the shell was empty and the television set was on. This was the boat of Dr J Nickolls.
He had been sailing in his designer shell for three years now and as far as we could see it would be at least another three years before he returned to dock and unload. You might have guessed it, but Dr Nicholls was a keen collector of seashells, and the shell he sailed in now was latest addition, a nine hundred pound shell of a purple spotted liver crab.
Now many of the school text books will deny the very existence of the purple spotted liver crab, but if that was the case what was the shell Dr Nicholls was sailing in. No they existed. Dr Nicholls had once said in reply to such nonsense when asked if he believed in the existence of such creatures that, “you must not believe everything you read in the textbooks.”
At the time this seemed like a strange and funny thing for Dr Nicholls to say as all who knew him would tell you Dr Nicholls had spent most of his life reading text books. When he was a young boy, every lunch time he could be found sitting on the hard wooden seats with his small face buried behind the pages of some dusty, rarely touched book. After-school activities mainly consisted of reading quietly in his bedroom, alone. He earned the title of spitspat (he still was unable to fathom the meaning of this) in a record time. So why was it that Dr Nickolls spoke so openly of his discontent with the school textbook now? Well one good reason could be attributed to his meeting with a young boy only two weeks ago when he was at his home in the capital city of England, the grand city of London. The boys name was Aloo. A short boy, shorter in fact than most short boys, who had two fat lips and a black eye. Aloo had been walking through the cobbled streets of Piccadilly Circus early one busy Saturday morning picking the pockets of unsuspecting overweight tourists. So far it had been a good morning. In his small dirty rucksack he had a collection of compact cameras- all digital, two wallets, one from an unsuspecting Japanese man who had fallen asleep in morning sun at Trafalgar square, the other a tall lady who looked like she needed some help as she had so many bags of shopping, and some cheap gold jewelry, which although poorly crafted, Aloo thought would at least feed him for a couple of days. He was sitting on some steps in Soho watching as the greedy and unsuspecting people buzzed around like wasps who’d just found a dropped ice cream cone. In the crowds the perfect game. A strange looking man who carried in his hands a pile of books. He stumbled from left to right trying to balance and avoid bumping into the rushes of hungry tourists, an easy target thought Aloo.
Aloo approached the wild eyed man and keeping a safe distance behind him followed him. Aloo noticed that the man was nearing the Piccadilly Theatre station and so hastened to catch him before he left. He soon found himself close enough to the man to pilfer his pockets. He waited for the right moment as the crowd of busy ‘gooses’ as he called them left the station and reached forward into Dr Nicholl’s pockets. At that moment Dr Nicholls felt something tickle his leg he turned and looked to his side, but saw nothing, then he looked down and saw the small boy Aloo with his hand firmly planted in Dr Nicholls pocket. The small boy eager to increase the days takings, hadn’t anticipated that his next victim, this strange looking man dressed in an ironed shirt and trousers would be such a keen collector of seashells. Aloo desperately tried to free his hand from Dr Nicholls pocket but to no avail. His hand was completely stuck – his fingers attached to several weird and wonderful seashells.

This is how Dr Nicholls first the met the small boy named Aloo. Not the most conventional of meetings but then again they were hardly the most conventional people. You’d think that in most situations like this some form of punishment might be called for or at least the police might be called but Dr Nicholls simply stood there, not reacting, just staring. Aloo looked up, smiled and spoke “So how do you find London, Sir?” his hand still in Dr Nicholls pocket.

The large seashell was bobbing now in the calm breeze of the ocean and the television contained a blank fuzzy screen. The hiss of the T.V. was all that could be heard. “Splooooosh!” followed by a loud gasp for air and two large hands grasping the side of the boat. A dark figure could be made out against the light of the moon heaving itself over the edge of the boat. Dr Nicholls climbed into the cover of his shell and reached for a towel to dry himself off. The water glistened on his chest in the moonlight as he dried himself. He reached down and opened the sack and reached in. He pulled out a selection of shells – some still had there occupants inside. One by one he placed the objects onto the floor. A crab, several empty shells (which needed a good clean), a yellow spined lobster, several flapping bright coloured fish. He reached into double check the bag was empty and felt something hard and smooth in the bottom. Slowly he drew the object from the bag and held it up in the moonlight for a closer inspection. Dr Nicholls gasped, it was a yellow spotted turtle. The turtles shell was covered in large perfectly formed gleaming golden yellow spots. Each spot contained a unique pattern, some shaped like labyrinths, others in strange unseen patterns. If legend and Dr Nicholls were correct the Golden spotted turtle had mystical powers, and one of those powers was the ability to talk. He held the turtle up in the moonlight to get a better look at the turtles features. With this the turtle retreated into his shell and hid. His little neck pulled in quickly under his shell and stayed there. After a few moments Dr Nicholls put the turtle down, a little disappointed. He had been diving all day and from what he could see in front of him had really little to show for it. After wrestling with the blankets and the heavy humid air Dr Nicholls found himself in a position to get some rest and sleep for the night. He admitted to himself that the more he saw of the beautiful ocean the more he fell in love with it., however, he was starting to lose hope that he would ever find the purple spotted liver crab. No sign of it for nearly two weeks. With a deep sigh Dr Nicholls turned over and his thoughts turned to the little boy Aloo who in such a short time had managed to teach Dr Nicholls so, so much.

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