Unholy Trinity: “Crab” “Spawning Time” & “Hermitage” by Lew Lashmit
Our church worships at the altar of the Unholy Trinity. Its gospels are delivered as a trio of dark drabbles, linked so that Three become One. All hail the power of the Three.
Crab
Shipwrecked, I despaired of surviving. When the giant crab scuttled ashore, I prepared to die. To my surprise, it didn’t attack when I swallowed clumps of its pale, tough little eggs. With deft claws, it built me a shelter and warded off wild animals. My heart warmed toward the strange, beneficent creature. I went willingly when, with gentle nudges, it urged me to the sea one night. Suddenly, a squirming, scrabbling stomach pain drove me to my knees. The crab towered over me, scalpel-sharp claws poised. I realized then it wasn’t me that the crab loved . . . it was her children.
Spawning Time
Miles below the surface, it sleeps. And when the time comes, it wakes and spawns . . . its seed mindlessly seeks flesh to infest and mutate into its hybrid Offspring.
The last spawning time, extraterrestrial Guardians nudged a comet from orbit and destroyed the Offspring, at the cost of nearly extinguishing all life on Earth. But in the millions of years since, the Guardians themselves have gone extinct.
This time, the beaches are populated by little apes – happy, innocent, frolicking in the warm surf. This time, the Offspring will have minds, and hands, and technology.
This time, the Offspring will have space.
Hermitage
She bends down to pick up what she thinks is a half-buried seashell. Digging it out from the damp sand, she turns the smooth, white dome over.
Sees eye sockets, tiny teeth, a clinging scrap of dry skin and wispy hair.
A skull. Small. A child’s.
Something glints deep within – beady eyes.
With a bleat of fear and disgust, she drops it.
Too late.
The inhabitant springs out and clutches her face with all ten segmented legs. Feelers probe her eyes. Claws dig and rip, excavating. The soft, pulsing underbelly slips neatly inside.
It is time for a new home.
Lew Lashmit
Hi, I’m Lew, a queer trans writer from Maryland. I try to give my stories a tongue-in-cheek, slighty cheesy 80’s rubber monster movie sensibility. I wrote these three drabbles set on the beach, which I love and which is commonly thought of as a lovely summer playground, but the ocean is dark, deep and unforgiving, and hides many secrets . . .
You can find more at https://twitter.com/EvilViergacht and https://bsky.app/profile/viergacht.bsky.social
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Originally from New Orleans, Shalini grew up with a love for the hauntingly beautiful stories, ideas and folklore that were enmeshed with the city. She also developed a deep love for words and a well-told story. Anytime those two can marry, she’s there for it. She loves stories that lure, that haunt, that pull at heartstrings or that wrap one up in fear, anxious to know what’s going to happen next.
