A Snail's Journey

By Angie Bromeland

The snail followed the trail to scale the hall wall. He’d seen the spider do it earlier. It looked so easy, but the snail supposed all things were easy when you had eight legs. That was eight legs more than he had. The lowly snail had little to be proud of. Unless, of course, you counted his cute, bouncy antennae, and of course, his pearly shell. Thinking about that, the snail perked up a bit. He wasn’t so unlucky after all, he thought.

The snail knew he didn’t have much time. It’s a terrible thing to know when you’re a snail. This is, of course, because snails are known to move so very slowly. But the mail had just been delivered, so the snail had exactly three minutes. If someone saw him, they would knock him into a pail, and dump him back outside. A hail storm was coming tonight, and he didn’t want his shell getting damaged.

Thinking speedy thoughts, the snail began to slink up the wall. The spider was slung on his web in a corner, and he cheered.
“Come on, snail man! You can do it! You’re halfway to the rail, now!”

The snail imagined regaling others with the tale for weeks and months to come. If he failed, he knew the spider would be disappointed, too.

The snail scooted faster. He sailed past the rail to the ceiling. The spider crawled over to congratulate the snail. “Well done! Well done, I say! I’d shake your hand if you had one. Instead, I’ll pat you on your back. What a fine shell you have, snail man!” the spider said.

The snail was tired, but proud. He had made it. And his shell would be safe during the night’s storm. Yes, he would tell this tale for the rest of his life.