the oyster and the seahorse: a soggy tale

there was a tiny seahorse who fell in love with a giant oyster. he told her he was growing a pearl in the center of himself, and she thought that was a beautiful thing to do. every day she went to see him, and he told her about the pearl, how much it had grown and how different he would be when it was finished. she said to him, "you're so clever and talented, you're so good and wise, i want to be with you all my life." he said, "you're a pretty little seahorse, but all of a life is a very long time. stay here with me while i tend to my pearl, and we'll see what happens then."

so the seahorse stayed with the oyster, and helped him whenever she could, and did whatever he asked, and loved him very much. they talked and talked about all kinds of things, but whenever the seahorse wondered about the future the oyster told her it was far away, and the most important thing was that he finish making his perfect pearl. she knew how much it meant to him and never disagreed, but sometimes she felt very sure that, in a place as big and strange and unknowable as the ocean, there must be lots of things at least as important as one oyster's pearl.

years and years went by, and finally the oyster told the seahorse that his pearl was complete. she was so happy for him and proud of him, and she scolded herself for ever doubting the importance of his work. when he offered to let her see it she was so overjoyed that she almost fainted. he opened himself up very wide, and she rushed to witness the life's work of her true love.

but there was nothing there. the seahorse looked and looked all around in the center of the oyster until she was sure she had searched everywhere, but there was no pearl, just a few grains of ordinary sand. at first she was disappointed, but then she realized that it didn't matter to her at all; the oyster had loved the idea of his pearl more than the seahorse ever had. really, the seahorse just loved the oyster, and the more she thought about it, the happier she was to know that he hadn't actually changed.

"is it beautiful?" the oyster whispered.
"of course it is, silly," the little seahorse answered, "it's you."
"not me, dumbass, the pearl! tell me about the pearl!"
"there is no pearl, darling. there's just you, the same as you've always been. but i've loved you without the pearl all along, and i'll love you forever—"
"THIS ISN'T ABOUT YOU, YOU LYING BITCH! FUCK OFF!"

and the oyster slammed his shell shut tight over the tiny seahorse, and wouldn't speak to her again, and wouldn't let her out. the seahorse cried and cried to know that the oyster loved something he had made up inside his head more than he could ever love her.

and then she died.