Flash Fiction

My name is Spindly Crabback.  I was skimming along the surface like any other day shaking up some delightful fish eggs,  in a pleasing fog of mud, that went down in a bite or two.  Looked like I was in a good spot for a change.  Of course, I had to dodge a number of fat stocks that seems to always be in pairs that kept shifting around in the atmosphere to plant themselves in the mud only to shift again.  You couldn't see the tops of them as they went up through the atmosphere to disappear beyond the transition showing a pinkish or black haze that seemed to float around in sync with the stocks; more pinks than blacks.  From curiosity, I had scrambled like the dickens one time to try and reach the top of the transition only to get buffeted back down by the churning of the atmosphere cause by the stocks moving.  Some friends that went with me made it to the top and I've never seen or heard from them again.  

Well, I wasn't going to let that bother me today.  I was in pincer heaven when I found a fresh sack of eggs.  I was so engrossed with digging into them that I didn't see it coming.  Squish… That dang stock pushed me a good hundred of my little feet into the mud.  

That really upset me, mad at myself for not watching better.  Not only did I lose my egg sack it's going to take me three days to dig myself out of here.