Michelle shook her head, and slowly pulled her legs up under her. Her dark hair, cut straight and short (for this week, anyway) was damp as she reached up to touch it. She winced automatically, noting for the first time that she also had a headache. Not that this was the first time she'd had a headache, but it was the first one she could recall having while dripping salt water. Blinking her eyes in the sunlight, she looked over her surroundings in confusion. Where was she? How had she gotten here? It was so hard to recall.

To her left was a beach of grey, volcanic sand leading out to what appeared to be an ocean. Glancing down at her green dress, she noticed that it was soaking wet as well. Apparently she had decided to go swimming in her clothing. Michelle wasn't sure, but she rather thought that was out of character for her. It came back to her then, a vague image of being on a boat. Yes, it was definitely starting to come back to her, she had been on a ship that was sinking! She remembered that now. The odd thing was, it seemed to her that the ship had been taking an incredibly long time to sink. It seemed impossible, but it seemed the ship had been sinking for years. Still, she had been tossed overboard before the ship could go all the way under. She rather wondered if that had been good or bad for her.

Her surroundings now were unfamiliar, but she had clearly washed up on some shore. That at least seemed in her favor. From the looks of things, it appeared she was on an island of some sort. That at least, Michelle liked. The sun was shining brightly overhead and she knew that it could quickly give her the type of tan she so enjoyed.

Uncertainly, she decided to try and stand. Her legs were weak beneath her, and she wondered how she had managed to swim to this island. It was so hard to remember things. She thought back to the ship she had been on, tried remembering what had happened. It seemed to her that the weather had started getting rough and the tiny ship had been tossed. That much she recalled. It seemed there had been friends of hers on that ship, but it was hard to remember.

Taking a few shuffling steps forward, Michelle decided it was time to find some food. She wondered if this island had any Chinese restaurants anywhere nearby? Was there at least a phone where she could call for help? Or carry-out?

She had not taken more than a few steps off the beach, walking along a barely visible trail, when she heard a small voice from below her. Her mouth dropped open in surprise. To the side of the trail was a snail at least one foot tall! It was colored a greyish pink and seemed as still the nearby rocks. "Did you speak to me?" Michelle asked in disbelief.

"Um, yeah," said the snail, seeming to pause before answering. "Or did I?" it continued. It paused for another moment, it's tiny eyes on the two twin stalks jutting from its head seemed to look about. "Ah, well, there's no one else, here, so I guess I did, yes."

"Well," said Michelle, trying to force a smile in spite of her headache. "What did you want?"

"Oh, well, the thing is," said the snail. "I just wanted to welcome you to this island. I'm happy to have you here."

Michelle bent over and smiled at the snail, thinking how nice it was to meet someone friendly so quickly, even if it happened to be a snail. It did strike her as odd that she had encountered a one foot talking snail, but as rattled as her brains currently were, she did not give it too much thought. "Thank you, Mr. Snail," she said.

"Don't thank me," he replied. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Ah, and where are we exactly?" Michelle asked.

"A safe place," the snail assured her.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," Michelle replied, thinking this was the first bit of good news she'd had that day. At least, that she could remember. She was stopping to consider what question to next ask of the snail, when she found to her surprise that it was slowly fading away before her eyes! "Where are you going?" she cried out, feeling afraid at losing her only friend on this island so far. "I thought you weren't going anywhere!"

"I'm just going to the other side of the island," the snail muttered, seeming distracted, as his body slowly faded into transparency. "If you get into trouble or need anything, just whistle."

"Why?" Michelle asked, her smiling fading as quickly as the snail's form. "Will you come back then?"

The snail opened his mouth to reply, but by then he had faded so far that his words were as invisible as his body. His head bowed slowly to her and then he vanished completely.

Michelle scratched her head in confusion and immediately regretted it. Her headache hadn't completely disappeared yet, and the sight of a vanishing, talking snail was making her wonder if maybe she hadn't hit her head against something a little too hard.

She tried thinking back once more, to whatever had caused her to wind up off the boat. A couple faces came back to her. She remembered the movie star, Louise, a good intentioned blonde who indicated that she knew their boat was sinking and that she had half a mind have her husband get her off the boat at the next port. She also recalled Professor Ray who had woefully insisted he would go down with the ship. Michelle remembered telling him he wasn't the captain and so that wasn't necessary. Ray had then insistently pointed out that being the captain didn't enter the damn equation. He was going down because the fool captain had chained him to the ship and Ray didn't have any say in the matter. Michelle's last memory of Ray was of him scrabbling frantically, but without much hope, at the manacles about his ankles.

Michelle paused in her walking to stop and look over her shoulder towards the shore she'd left behind. She wondered if the Professor or Louise had made it off the boat before it sank. Her heart trip hammered in her chest as she considered another possibility...what if whoever had knocked her off the boat came back looking for her? At first she thought she had been stranded here, but now she wondered if she'd be worse off back on that boat? It was possible that landing on this island could be the best thing that could have happened to her.

Abruptly the jungle opened up onto a beach of white sand. Michelle groaned inwardly. Could it be that she was already across the island? Was it that short? She took a second look and saw that there was more jungle across a short stretch of water. It appeared she had come across a lagoon, not the ocean itself. The distance to the opposite side seemed short enough, and though she wasn't exactly dressed for a swim, it seemed like it would be quicker than walking around, as from what she could see, the lagoon narrowed into a stream that moved into the jungle.

Maybe she could ask the snail for advice. Remembering what he had told her to do, she puckered her lips and whistled. She waited for a moment, looking about her. Nothing happened. "Hello, Mr. Snail!" she called out. "Are you there?" She considered that he might have come back, but had remained invisible. Puckering her lips once more, she whistled again. Still nothing. Fists on her hips, Michelle's eyebrows drew together in annoyance. "I thought he said I only needed to whistle if I needed him," she snapped. "But he's not coming back!"

"Who's not coming back?"

Michelle looked up, as the voice had come from above. She half expected to see the snail sitting in a tree, but instead found a hairy-faced monkey, shoving a banana in its mouth. It chomped eagerly on its meal, bits of pasty-yellow mash dripping down its thickly bristled chin. "Did you say something?" Michelle asked it, feeling somewhat foolish talking to a monkey, but deciding that maybe it was the sort of thing one was expected to do on islands such as this.

"Yes, I did," the monkey replied, not bothering to stop in its chewing.

"Do you know the snail?" Michelle asked.

"I told you I did," the monkey replied.

Michelle looked at the monkey as if she feared for its sanity. Or perhaps, at this point, it was her own she feared for. "No, you didn't!"

"Never said I did," the monkey replied, biting off another large bite of banana.

"You did!" Michelle gasped, shocked. "Just now you did!"

"Did what?" the monkey replied.

Michelle gently massaged her forehead, feeling her headache returning. Without saying another word, she stepped forward onto the beach. Her patience for incoherent simian's was at a low ebb just then.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you!" the monkey replied.

Michelle stopped, paused, turned, and looked back at the monkey. The sand was warm and soft as her bare feet sank into it. She wiggled her toes in it. The sun felt good on her skin as well after the cool shade of the jungle. "Why?" Michelle asked. "Is it dangerous over there?"

"Oh, no, it's not dangerous over there," the monkey replied.

Michelle could feel her muscles strain to keep a smile. She was finding the creatures of this jungle increasingly odd and disagreeable. "Then why did you say that?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light. She felt as if she was conversing with an idiot, but then considered that the fact that a monkey could talk was a feat in itself, and she should not be so harsh.

"Because you asked me."

"What?"

"You asked if it was dangerous over there, and I said no."

Michelle noticed that her breathing was becoming strained. This monkey was getting on her nerves. Time to move on.

Except, she couldn't really do that. While she had been talking, and quite against her will, her legs had apparently decided to get to know the island somewhat better. When she tried turning about, she found her legs rather stuck in the sand. As she had been talking, she had slowly settled into the soft beach sand. Puzzled, she tried pulling up on her left leg, not quite calf deep in the white sand. It inched slightly upward, but forced her right leg down past her knee.

"Excuse me," she called up to the monkey. "I seem to be stuck."

"Not surprised," sniffed the monkey. "What do you expect when you step into quicksand?"

Michelle's voice was all forced politeness, though a tightness had crept into it. "I would expect to sink if I stepped into quicksand. On the other hand, I stepped onto a solid beach. At least, I assumed it was solid!"

"Well, there you go," replied the monkey, grabbing another banana and chomping into it without bothering to pull back the peel.

Michelle glanced down as the quicksand slid past the hem of her dress. If the seawater hadn't destroyed it, she suspected this quicksand would. "Why did you let me step into quicksand!" she snapped up at the monkey, more annoyed than frightened at this time.

"You didn't ask," replied the monkey. "Besides, what makes you think I even knew it was quicksand?"

"Didn't you know?"

"That wasn't the question. The question was what made you think I knew?"

"You said it wasn't dangerous!"

"I never! I said it wasn't dangerous across the way! Here it's exceedingly dangerous! You didn't ask that," the monkey replied, laughing, and spewing banana guts through the air. "Silly human!"

Michelle's fingers were spread wide as she looked down at the approaching beach. It was already halfway up her thighs and showed no interest in slowing its consumption of her. "What am I supposed to do!" she cried out, starting to become worried.

"You need to move about frantically!" cried the monkey, jumping up onto the next branch. "Really twist the old body around, sort of do a dance. Shake it but don't break it, baby!"

Michelle did as he told her. It was difficult to move with her legs pressed tightly together below the surface of the sand, but she began wriggling her hips and twisting at the waist, moving her body back and forth as if jiggling a hula hoop. The surface of the beach quivered and jiggled in all directions about her as if responding to her movements. Tiny beads of sweat stood out on her forehead, and as she licked her lips she tasted salt.

Yet try as she might to do as the monkey had told her, it didn't seem to help her in the least. She could feel the gritty sand inching up between her thighs even faster than before. Soon her hips were level with the sand, and soon after her waist.

"I'm moving frantically!" she cried out at last, her breath coming in gasps from her exertions. "But I'm just sinking faster!"

"Of course you are!" replied the monkey.

Michelle stopped moving then, flabbergasted. "What?"

"Of course you are!" the monkey shouted, as if she were deaf.

"Why am I sinking faster!" Michelle practically screamed at the monkey.

"What do you think will happen if you move around fast while you're in quicksand!" the monkey screamed back.

"But you said I wouldn't sink if I moved around!" Michelle cried out, arms spread out as the quicksand gently oozed up her ribs.

"No," the monkey corrected her. "You asked me what to do and I told you to move around frantically. I never said that would slow you down."

Michelle's teeth clenched and her eyes bulged as she trembled with fury. "Why did you tell me to move then?"

The monkey shrugged. "It amused me. Why does there need to be a reason? Consider it a momentary whim of mine."

Michelle's cheeks puffed and deflated as she began hyperventilating. She looked down at the sand moving and shifting about her body like an earthy waterbed. The air whistled in and out between her lips.

"Yes?"

Michelle's head twisted about and she looked into the twin eyestalks of the snail. "You!" she cried.

"Yes," agreed the snail. "You wanted something? I heard you whistle."

"Yes!" Michelle gasped, the shivering sand just beneath her chest now. "How do I get out of here?"

"Well," said the snail. "I don't know anything about that. I can look into it for you and should be able to tell you something by next week."

"Next week!" Michelle replied, unbelieving. "I'll be dead by then."

"Okay, then by tomorrow," the snail replied and began fading away once more.

"I can't wait until tomorrow!" Michelle cried, her palms resting on the surface of the hot and gelid surface sand. It was too late, however, as the snail had disappeared. In desperation, she tried whistling once more, but she couldn't manage more than a squeak.

The quicksand was now a tight band squeezing about her chest, making it difficult to breathe. "How do I get out of here?" Michelle huffed, addressing the monkey once more. "Just tell me."

"Very well," replied the monkey around a mouthful of nuts. "Lean forward and stick your arms into the sand and just swim your way out."

"That will get me out?"

"Trust me."

Michelle didn't, but didn't see as she had much choice either. Grimacing, she pushed her arms into the yielding surface. It felt warm on her skin, as if she were sliding on a pair of opera gloves. As she angled her body forward, the sand slid up to her neck. Yet as she tried moving her arms, she found to her terror that her arms could not move. They were held fast as if in glue. The sand tickled the bottom of her chin and she rolled her eyes up fearfully towards the monkey. "I can't move!" she breathed. "It didn't work!"

"Hmm," replied the monkey. "Well, it should have. Oh, that's right, you can't do that once you are as deep as you are. My mistake. Guess I didn't consider that."

"Your mistake! Your mistake!" Michelle bellowed, the quicksand now holding her entire body in its embrace. Only her head remained above the surface. Below she still struggled, and the ground about her rolled and bounced, yet her motion only resulted in further downward progress.

"Stay calm," the monkey replied. "Everything is going to work out just fine! I don't understand why you would panic now."

Michelle tilted her head back as the quicksand flowed up over her chin. The back of her head settled in and she could feel the sand in her hair. "How is it going to be fine!" she cried, fighting back tears of fear and frustration.

"Well," continued the monkey, tossing a fresh banana peel onto the surface of the sand mere inches from her. "I mean, I'm still up here in this tree, and I know never to walk where you are. I'll be just fine! You may have saved my life in the future!"

"What about me?" Michelle cried, her ears covered by the mire.

"What about you?" the monkey chuckled. "Oh, wait," he replied, reaching into a hole in the tree beside him.

Hope kindled within Michelle's submerged breast. Was he going to save her after all.

Instead he threw a handful of dirty socks towards her. "What's that?" she cried, desperately.

"Rumor was you were addicted to socks. Thought it was the least I could do."

"Great, just what I need right now, an in-joke," Michelle whimpered in the instant before the quicksand covered her mouth. Her eyes danced about, looking for some means of escape. They closed a moment later as the quicksand covered her.

Yet before she gave in to the smothering darkness, she felt a sharp pain in her head once more. It was a hand clasped about her hair and pulling her up! Lungs burning, she fought to hold onto the air within her until she was free.

The sand parted from her face and she coughed as she tried to get air. The sand caked her eyes and she couldn't open them, but soon felt hands on her shoulders pulling her free more and more. Too exhausted to help, Michelle went limp, grateful that after all, she would survive. Giving in at last, she lapsed into unconsciousness.

An uncertain amount of time later she came to, feeling her body held in the arms of someone, and sensing motion. Raising a trembling hand to her face, she brushed the sand from her eyes. Blinking away the grit, she turned her head and looked to see who had rescued her.

She was shocked to see it was Professor Ray!

Sensing her movement, Ray stopped and looked down at her with a nervous smile. "Thought we'd lost you."

"How did you get here?" she asked. "I thought you were trapped on the ship too!"

"Got tossed overboard," he replied with a wry grin. "They were trying to get rid of ballast."

Michelle smiled, glad to be alive, but wondering if they were any better off on this odd island. In spite of what the snail had said, it wasn't safe here at all. Her smile became nervous, twitching, as she noticed something odd as she looked at Ray. It was something about the background. "Ray," she asked, apprehension creeping into her voice. "Where are we headed?"

"A safe place," he assured her. "I ran into this talking monkey who told me where to go so I'd be safe."

Michelle swallowed hard and realized what had looked odd about the background. It was rising. Looking down, she saw Ray was now past his knees in a soft, black soil. "Ray," she moaned, pointing down

Ray's jaw dropped down and he frowned. "He said we'd be safe here!"

Michelle shook her head. "So you'd think," she said. "Anyway, if nothing else, thanks for the company. Want to dance?"

Copyright 1996 Kaol