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- Herausgeber: Kelly Johnson
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Sprache: Englisch
Clara the Crab lives on a quiet, gray beach where everythingfrom the sand to the skyfeels muted and colorless. Though she appreciates the peace of her home, Clara longs for vibrancy and dreams of a world filled with dazzling hues and underwater wonders. Each day, she listens to stories from traveling sea creatures about colorful coral reefs and glowing fish, her imagination painting a vivid world far beyond her gray shore. One morning, her dream begins to come true when she spots a flash of brilliant blue in a tide poola school of sparkling blue fish unlike anything shes ever seen. Inspired and full of wonder, Clara follows them on a magical journey toward a brighter, more colorful world. Her quest becomes a heartwarming adventure of hope, discovery, and courage, as she dares to step beyond the familiar and chase the colors shes always believed were out there waiting for her.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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IMPRESSUM
Clara the Crab Catches Colors
Author: Kelly Johnson
© 2025 Kelly Johnson.
All rights reserved.
Author: Kelly Johnson
Contact: 903 W Woodland Ave, Kokomo, IN 46902
Email: [email protected]
Disclaimer
This eBook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: The Gray Sandy Shore
Chapter 2: A Splash of Blue
Chapter 3: The Rainbow Reef
Chapter 4: Meeting Coral the Painter
Chapter 5: Catching the Colors
Chapter 6: The Color Chase
Chapter 7: When Colors Fade
Chapter 8: Clara’s Color Plan
Chapter 9: The Festival of Colors
Chapter 10: Colors for All Seasons
Title: Clara the Crab Catches Colors
Author: Kelly Johnson
Chapter 1: The Gray Sandy Shore
Clara the Crab lived on the quietest part of the beach—a wide, sleepy stretch of gray sand that seemed to go on forever, gently sloping into the calm, slow-moving waves of the sea. The tide rolled in and out with a soft sigh, never rushing, never roaring. The beach was peaceful, a hush of wind and water that soothed the shore like a lullaby. But to Clara, it was also just a little too plain.
The sand was a soft, dusty gray that stuck between her tiny legs when she scuttled. It was neither bright nor warm, just the same quiet color day after day. The grains felt cool and smooth beneath her claws, yet lacked any spark or shimmer. The rocks that dotted the shoreline were smooth and pale, worn down by the waves into round, sleepy shapes. They looked like ancient stones, quietly resting after countless years of tides washing over them. Even the seashells that washed up from the sea looked as though they had lost their sparkle. Most were chipped or bleached by the sun, their colors faded like old memories—whispers of what once had been vivid pinks, blues, and purples now muted to fragile creams and grays.
Above her, the sky stretched wide and still. Most days it wore a silver sheen, with clouds drifting lazily like forgotten thoughts. Sometimes the clouds formed soft, cottony blankets, casting gentle shadows that cooled the sand just enough to make it feel comfortable beneath her claws. Even the sunlight felt muted here—barely a shimmer on the water’s surface, just enough to glint off the tips of small waves but never enough to make the sea dazzle. The ocean itself shimmered in quiet shades of gray and blue, like a soft watercolor painting left out in the rain. Occasionally, a ripple of light would dance on the surface, but it quickly faded, swallowed by the vast calm of the sea.
Clara loved the gentle rhythm of this place—the whisper of the wind through the dunes, the steady ebb and flow of the tide, the soft chorus of distant gulls calling to one another. It was a world of quiet comfort and steady routines. But in the stillness, Clara felt a restless longing—a yearning for something more vibrant, more alive. She dreamed of bright colors that could paint her world with light and magic. She imagined the deep reds of coral fires glowing beneath the waves, the golden yellows of sunbeams caught in bubbles, and the lush greens of seaweed swaying like ribbons in a gentle current.
As she scuttled along the shore, Clara’s muted brown shell blended perfectly with the gray sands and pale rocks. It was a good shell for hiding from predators, but it made her feel like just another quiet speck in a sleepy world. Sometimes, she would pause to watch seagulls soaring high above, their feathers gleaming white against the silver sky, imagining what it might be like to wear a coat of shining colors instead of plain brown. She dreamed of sunsets that painted the horizon with fiery oranges and soft pinks—colors she could never quite reach but wished she could carry inside her heart.
Though the beach was calm and familiar, Clara felt a spark inside her—a tiny, persistent flicker of hope and curiosity. She wondered if, beyond the endless gray sands and quiet waves, there might be places bursting with color and light. Places where the ocean whispered secrets of beauty and magic, waiting for someone brave enough to find them.
And so, every evening as the sun dipped low and the sky deepened into soft shades of lavender and rose, Clara would look out at the endless horizon, her tiny claws resting on a cool rock, and make a quiet promise to herself: one day, she would discover the colors she dreamed of, and bring their sparkling light back to her quiet shore.
Clara was a small crab with a rounded shell the color of old driftwood—a gentle, dusty brown that helped her disappear among the rocks. It was a good shell, strong and dependable, and perfect for hiding when seagulls swooped too low or when humans wandered nearby with their loud footsteps and sand-kicking shoes. But sometimes, when she tucked herself into a tide pool or nestled beneath a smooth stone, Clara imagined her shell sparkling with rich reds like coral, deep blues like the sea beyond the horizon, or glowing yellows like the sun on a summer’s afternoon.
Every morning, Clara would scuttle along the shoreline, her tiny claws clicking a soft rhythm on the sand. She watched the tide’s gentle ballet and listened to the whoosh of the waves kissing the shore. The wind carried the scent of salt and seaweed, sometimes bringing bits of kelp or the occasional jellyfish stranded by the tide. It was a quiet life, a good life—but still, she felt an ache she couldn’t name. Something inside her longed for more.
She’d pause now and then to look up at the seagulls gliding above. They were white, yes—but in her imagination, their wings shimmered with gold and silver, catching the light in magical ways. She dreamed of feathers dipped in colors like the petals of flowers she’d only heard about from passing butterflies. Sometimes, she would trace pictures in the wet sand with her claw—spirals and swirls and zigzags—pretending they were painted in brilliant hues.
