A Beach House on the Bering Strait

The sea loomed in front of Erick like a vast and endless monolith. There was nothing else in his life. Nothing but the unforgiving ocean. He tried desperately not to think of the family he’d left behind. Erick had spent the last five years of his life on this ship. The same route every year, the crab traps in the same spot each and every time. The Bering Strait was a cruel and unforgiving mistress. In a dead and loveless marriage, the Bering was sweeter to him than any woman he'd ever loved. Puffins hooted and growled at the rickety ship as it passed. The birds’ precious catch hung tightly in their beaks as they stared warily at the skimmer.

There weren’t as many crabs as there used to be. The King Crabs used to be plentiful, but despite the NOAA Fisheries declaring them sustainable, there was noticeably fewer. The pressure to bring 'em in was made palpable by Erick’s boss, constantly demanding more, more, more. Erick spent many nights staring up at the stars, dreaming of any other life. If he could be an astronomer, or maybe even an interior designer. Lord have mercy, his brothers would boil and filet him like the crabs he caught if he ever told a soul his dream job. He believed he could design the most appealing of beach houses if given the chance. Something airy and decorated to the brim with sea shells and kitschy ocean themed signs on the wall. A chance to build somethig he would never have.

No, he was stuck on this ship. The only thing that fueled his life, that funneled money to his kid and ex-wife back home. Child support had to be paid one way or another. Interior design would not pay the bills. Catching seafood, that certainly would.

The waves around Erick grew taller and more ferocious as his mind wandered. He dreamt of a new wife, of a child he could be there for. Of a daughter he could actually raise as opposed to being thousands of miles away, in the chill arctic ocean. Tears welled in his eyes as he was reminded of the ballet recitals he would miss, the graduation he would never attend, for a daughter he could never father. The contentious divorce which marred his past haunted him like the stormy clouds above. His wife would never return. She had a new man, a man that could be a real husband, could support her not just monetarily, but physically, emotionally. He would never hold her in his arms again or whisper sweet nothings. No. The sea was his new wife. A wife that he never spent months away from, for all his time was devoted to her. All his energy was encased in the ocean’s cold embrace.

He sniffled, wiping tears from his face as they slowly turned into tiny frostbitten icicles hanging from his eyelids. The waves roared, splashing over the sides of the rusty ship, painting him in freezing water. Without warning, a whirlpool fell upon the ship, ravenous and hungry. The water churned and chewed at the old skiff till it was nearly engulfed. The thunderclouds overhead darkened and cracked furiously. From within the ice blue depths of the waters below emerged a behemoth, a monster of frightening proportion. The waves suddenly gave shape to deep red and pale white, a hard exoskeleton emerging from the water. It was a crab. Of this, Erick could be sure. He knew a crab when he saw one, regardless of its monumental size.

The fisherman fell to his knees, terrified of the thing he’d eaten more times than he could count. A new god had revealed itself. A god of the seas, perhaps Poseidon or Neptune? Who knew the once vulnerable crustacean would become such a powerful titan of oceanic power?

Any hermit crab kept in captivity, or Dungeness Crab boiled for sushi paled in comparison to this eldritch power. Eight spiny legs crawled from the waters, tipping the ship closder to the murky depths. Two massive glassy black eyes peered at Erick from stalks the length of a small tree and the width of his thigh.

To Erick’s horror and surprise, the creature spoke “My child.”

The voice reverberated about the ship, shaking the deck like an aquatic earthquake. Erick had no response, left voiceless at the face of something he had consumed, now appearing as though it was about to encapsulate him.

It continued “What have you done?”

Erick’s voice was hoarse, stuck in his throat as he responded “I did my job. I did what I had to do to feed my family.”

The crab vibrated, growling like the puffins as it processed this information. After a long, painful silence it responded in a tone akin to the movement of the tectonic plates themselves “All I ask is that you stop.”

Erick nodded, face stricken and body feeling as though it was on the verge of collapse. He watched, enraptured, as the sea swallowed up the crab that had only emerged moments before. The waves fell silent, still, as though nothing had ever happened. Erick remained genuflected, stuck on his knees; for minutes or hours he did not know. Eventually, he returned to the cramped living quarters of the skipper, seeing his boss shucking open a crab.

He reached out a shaky hand, placing it upon the calloused one his boss held a fish knife in. His boss stilled his motion, the crab in his other hand twitching in pain. It was barely alive, but nor could it be called dead. Erick managed to stutter out a broken “I’m putting in my two weeks.”

His boss’ eyes widened, knife slamming down on the counter. He was not brash when he let out a cold and calculated “You leave this ship early, I slit your throat.”

The night was a blur for Erick after that. He did not remember throwing his boss overboard. Nor did he remember piloting the ship towards the direction of the shore. The only thing on his mind was the composition of the beach house he was soon to design.