ORIGINS: It all started with a narwhal. Its tusk reminded us of the spiral shells where some hermit crabs make their homes. And we couldn’t help wondering if one such crab would ever try to upgrade to a whale. (Look at the eyebrow of the sixth character in the original series)
In another life I must have been an unhappy little hermit crab. Asking for the impossible: a perfect home. I must have offered to turn a whale into a unicorn. Hoping to settle down at the top of its head. And that whale must have rejected me. Saying that it already had the sky inside its lungs, and it wasn’t willing to part with the dreams that inspired its songs. It must have hurt. Losing my chance to create something magical with someone else. Because I was reborn in a rose. And the first thing I did was borrow one of its thorns to be my home. And all I can think about is making some whale, any whale, hurt. Plugging its blowhole, leaving that whale no way to replenish its dreams. So that a song finally keeps my magic company.
I was a calf. I may not remember the sea, not even my first breath, but I remember feeling at home. I remember knowing that one day I would grow into a whale. But that day never came. There were words. A stab. Not quite in my back, but it reached my heart nonetheless. Those words felt like more than a dozen feet dancing over my grave. And when they were done, a hollow voice crawled out of a spiral shell to tell me that that would be my home from then on. But I still remembered. Not enough to grow into a whale on my own. Just enough to run away. And that is what I did. But there was a hole. One that would never let air in again, because it could carry words, and those hurt. And now all I can do is hope to find a deer one day. To borrow its antlers, and try to carve out a little piece of the darkest sea. A little bit of silence, that will welcome me and hopefully let me breathe again.
Four walls will never be a home. When I moved in, those words were scratched all over my latest spiral shell. It wasn’t long before they got under my skin, taking control of my feet. I needed warmth. At the very least, I needed a voice that wasn’t my own. But when I tried to burrow into a whale, into its song, it blew me far, far away. With only saltwater for company. And now I am here. Surrounded by teeth that were never meant to last forever. The chameleon tells me that childhood was always meant to be a stepping stone. That warmth is only a color, and the sooner I learn to fake it, the better off I will be. I bleed. The saltwater still left on my skin stings. And I blend in, looking for another grown-up to share four walls with.
I wanted to fill my home with a beautiful song. I needed to replace all the ugly, hurtful memories that someone I refuse to call family had passed down to me. I was polite, I didn’t make childish demands that would only spoil the beauty of the song I had my eye on. But the whale said no. And when I insisted; when my inner child started to show, the whale told me about earworms. She said that it happened to snails, and it would happen to me too. The whale told me that she couldn’t give me her song, because it would take over my life. I denied it. I told her that living inside a shell didn’t make us one and the same; that it didn’t have to mean that we would end up sharing the same fate. But the whale shook her head again, dismissing me. Her parting words were that there were already too many zombies in the world and she refused to add even one more. And I hurried to admit that I was already one; that the number wouldn’t change. Because hurt took over my life a long time ago. But the whale had already left, taking her beautiful song with her.
Hermit Crab: Do you want to become my home? I still haven’t outgrown this spiral shell, but I don’t like leaving things to fate and I won’t chance never meeting you again.
Whale: I am sorry, but I am not big enough to be anyone’s home. I already have a song. It’s larger than life. It’s the sound that leads me back to my dreams every time I close my eyes. I need it more than I need my breath. And that doesn’t leave enough space inside me for me to be the home you deserve.
Hermit Crab: Just a whisper. Just a few words. I promise you that it doesn’t hurt. You can ask your children, they have already gone through with it. Look at the smiles on their faces; it seems to me that your songs aren’t missed. Wouldn’t you at least want to share in your children’s smiles?
Whale: …
Hermit Crab: I am giving you a chance here; don’t test me. It wouldn’t take much to have them stab your heart. Just a whisper. Just a few words. Wouldn’t you rather keep being part of a happy, loving family?
Hermit Crab: My feet hurt. All thousand and one of them. I am tired of carrying this spiral shell wherever I go. These four walls have grown too heavy for me, heavier than the word home and all the responsibilities that come with it. Look at my feet. They were meant for fairytales, not for reality. Can’t you take some pity on me?
Whale: What would you have me do?
Hermit Crab: I have heard it said that you have a lovely voice. Why don’t you sing for me, and let that song carry me through the next few years of my life?
Hermit Crab: Why do you keep doing this to yourself? You keep meeting life head-on. Without compromises. Without forgiveness. Your face is littered with scars, and you seem to take pride in that starburst.
Whale: Why wouldn’t I take pride in it? I got rid of any dreams before they could take over my life, and disappointment was all I had left.
Hermit Crab: That is not true. You could have had, you could have been so much more than those scars. You were already a whale. You only had to ask for help. I could have lent you a hand, my spiral shell. You could have become a narwhal and pierced your own stars in the night. But it is not too late. Let your children dream. Let them have something to soothe all their scars.
Whale: You already know that I don’t dream, that I don’t live my life vicariously. What makes you think that I would use my children as a poor substitutes for a dream? If you want something from them, you should talk to them.