By Carolyn and Joseph Waterbury-Tieman

One day, in my art studio, I was putting the finishing touches on a painting of life on the ocean floor.  The last creature to be added was my favorite – a hermit crab.  I was just about to apply the final stroke with my brush when my hand felt wet.  Suddenly, I was no longer looking at my painting.  I was in it!  I had become the hermit crab!

“What just happened here? Is this a dream? Somebody pinch me.”  Ouch!  I accidentally pinched myself with my claw.  “I guess this is real,” I gulped.  Once the shock wore off, I took a look around.  I was in an undersea paradise.

I could not believe my eyes.  I was surrounded by all the creatures I had included in my painting.  There was coral in every color of the rainbow.  There were all different sizes and kinds of fish swimming around me.  There were so many shells, I couldn’t count them all.  Each one was unique in color and shape.  One particular shell stood out from the rest.  It was pink and yellow with black bands.  All of a sudden a head popped out of it.  It was another hermit crab.

“I don’t remember painting you,” I said.

“I was hiding behind that rock,” she said.  “My name is Shelby.”

“Why were you hiding?” I wondered.

“Because my shell is too small and I can’t fit inside it anymore,” Shelby explained.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“I need to find a new shell,” she sighed.

“May I help you in your search?” I requested.

“I would be glad for your company. Thank you. But it might be dangerous,” she warned.

“There’s safety in numbers,” I replied. “We can look out for each other.”

We started looking for empty shells.  The first one we found was a lovely whelk. She slipped out of her old shell and scurried into the new one.  It was much too big. She crawled back into her old shell.  We continued on our way.

Next we spotted a long, slender turret shell.  Just as Shelby was about to switch shells, a pricklepine fish darted out of a jungle of seaweed and headed straight for us with his mouth wide open.  His teeth were razor sharp.

Just as the fish was about to gobble us up, we darted into our shells.  But Shelby’s was too small for her whole body to fit inside, so I stirred up the sand to make a cloud around us.  Blinded and confused, the pricklepine fish swam away.

“Phew!  Good thinking!” Shelby exclaimed.

“Thanks,” I said.

After we calmed down, Shelby tried the turret shell, but it was too tight.  We set off once more.

We searched the ocean floor for what seemed like hours.  We were just about to give up when Shelby spotted a beautiful moon snail shell.

“I have always wanted to live in a moon snail shell, “Shelby said excitedly.  “Oh, I hope it fits.”

She rushed over to the shell leaving her old one behind.  She carefully backed into the new shell and squealed, “IT FITS!  It’s just right!”

“Congratulations, Shelby.  It just suits you,” I told her.

“Thank you for being so helpful,” Shelby said.  “You are a great friend.”

“You’re welcome.  I’ll never forget our adventure,” I replied.  

Just as I was waving my claw goodbye, I felt my body being pulled out of the picture.  I was myself again, back in my studio.  I stood there thinking, “Wow! What an incredible daydream,” when I noticed there was something in my pocket.  I reached in and pulled out the black-banded, pink and yellow shell that had been Shelby’s home.  “Now how did that get there?”