the sandman's daughter
Slighter than Mr. Stan but more majestic, she rises from the ocean like a cresting wave, her shimmering gown trailing sea foam. She seems to have the same gentle, ebony face as Mr. Stan. Her hat is a horseshoe crab shell! But it doesn’t look silly on her. She wears it like a crown!
The stranger raises a shimmering hourglass of sand, revealing a dusky, weathered face with a grin like when Grandpa was up to something Grams pretended to disapprove of. Some kinda hat is tilted on his head…But the hourglass has me speechless. The glowing sand flows not downwards—but upwards, hovering around this floating intruder.
Belle is Grams’ best-loved turtle because part of her back flipper is missing where abandoned fishing wire wrapped around, cutting off the blood flow. Grams admires how Belle perseveres: “If you only look back at what hurts you and what you have lost, you go in circles. Belle has the courage to look forward and move on.”
Scuter and Dred Scott
I offer Dred Scott an apologetic tummy rub. He disdainfully accepts, soon filling the room with snuffling, snorting and nose whistling, so it’s no wonder I don’t hear anyone enter my room. I’m casting rude shadow figures on the wall by moonlight when whoosh — another shadow smacks into mine, spewing sand around like confetti.