The Snail

I tiptoed towards my little sister’s room. The hardwood floor was cool against my bare feet, and the handle to a bucket of water was clenched in my right hand.

She was never going to get away with stealing my stuff again, I had told myself a week earlier when I had discovered my favorite ring—a gift from my parents for my last birthday—missing from my jewelry box. So this morning, when I had searched fruitlessly for the new blue shirt I had bought only last week, I knew something had to be done.

I made my way past my parents bedroom. I could see her door. It was cracked open. Only a few more steps, and she would wake up to an icy waterfall drenching her and---

My left foot came down on something small and slimy. It felt almost solid at first, but then it burst open and gooeyness oozed onto my foot and between my toes.

I jumped back and dropped my bucket of water. It splashed all over my feet and legs. “Eeeeeek!” I shrieked as the icy cold water began to numb my toes.

I could hear the startled voices of my parents and sister. They had been woken up by my scream. I ran to my room as fast as I could and grabbed the first piece of clothing I could see sticking out from under my bed. I inspected the bottom of my foot. The remains of a very dead snail were smeared all over it.

My mother burst into my bedroom. “What is going on?!” she exclaimed. “Where did all this water come from?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but before I coud, I noticed what I was using to wipe the snail off my foot:

The blue shirt.

300 words