Barnacle Today

With every rhythmic kick, he combed the water, catching microscopic specks of plankton. It was a feast. Beside him, thousands of his brothers and sisters were doing the same, a silent, waving forest of tiny fans.

Barnaby felt the massive pressure change. Most creatures fled, but Barnaby just tightened his grip. He was part of the rock now. The ship scraped the outer edge of the reef with a groan that vibrated through Barnaby’s very glue. A few of his cousins on the outer ledge were crushed, but Barnaby held fast. barnacle

But tonight was different. The water felt heavy, smelling of old wood and rusted iron. A shadow loomed, blocking out the moonlight. A massive hull of a cargo ship was drifting too close to the reef. With every rhythmic kick, he combed the water,

The tide was retreating, leaving behind a glistening, salt-crusted world. In the middle of it all, perched on a jagged piece of granite, was Barnaby. Barnaby felt the massive pressure change

He remembered the day he chose the rock. He’d used his sensitive antennae to "walk" across the stone, tasting the surface for just the right chemical signature. When he found it, he did what any sensible barnacle does: he glued his forehead to the rock with the strongest cement in nature and decided never to move again. "Morning, Barnaby," clicked a nearby crab, scuttling past.