A year of active Sun which is also called a leap year is a hard time for the ocean, but those who dwell there are having even harder time. Sunrays like bullfighters’ swords are piercing through the ocean’s water penetrating into the hidden trenches and disturbing the deep–water creatures accustomed to the eternal darkness. They have to get to the surface, while a storm or a tide ruthlessly sweep them ashore. The great ocean engaged in a combat with the Sun does not care about their fate.
After a tide the shore is often covered with seashells, either empty or with pearls inside. But there are snails in some of them. One can take a seashell to the ear and listen to what these tiny living creatures are talking about. To those who are able to understand them a whole fantastic world is being revealed. The snails’ memory keeps a lot of stories which they tell each other on the ocean bottom, while they are waiting for the storm to end locked in their shells.
Here is one of such stories.
…A girl is walking along the shore, leaving a chain of the tiny footsteps behind her, while the ocean is thirstily licking them off with its long tongues of waves. The girl is not looking back and can not see that. She does not care about the past – she lives with the present. She is picking up the shells thrown at the shore in order to decorate her hut with them. The hut itself with a roof of palm leaves is also made of seashells. The girl is throwing seashells with the snails back into the sea. Born with one of the sunrays in the year of the extremely active sun, she understands the snails’ whisper.
The beautiful azure lagoons full of colorful fishes and the island flourishing with mangrove clumps were her own world, where she was born and grew up. There were neither predatory fishes in the water nor wild animals in the forest, and therefore the girl didn’t know what fear is and has never faced the evil. She was almost happy.
Almost… She only missed quite a trifle – to share her happiness with someone. At times, even sunrise didn’t bring joy to her which was an alarming symptom. She needed a friend. Fussy monkeys, talkative parrots and fearful birds were just the playmates, capricious and fickle. They didn’t know what real friendship is. But there were no one on the island beside them.
