Anchor

It was late June when the anchor arrived. The hedgerows had turned from the fresh green of new growth to a dulled deeper tone as the heat climbed upwards. It was placed, and I say placed as surely such a thing can only be done with purpose, on the trimmed lawn that lay in front of Mr. Merch’s home. We were woken by a stream of loud expletives.

It stood upright though leaning to one side as if to take in its new surroundings. It was unmistakably an anchor. Unattached to whatever it was intended to keep in place, but with a cross and a curved based. The classic anchor shape you might see nailed to the wall of a seafood chain restaurant. But I wasn’t looking at a decorative knickknack, I was looking at an over 8ft tall anchor on my neighbour’s lawn, that was usually pretty bereft of anchors.

As Mr. Merch continued to survey his lawn, his expletives now reduced to frenzied muttering, more people left their homes to witness the scene. Our shared curiosity meant we were soon clumped together in order to speculate how this could have possibly happened. The sea was over thirty miles away, and even then, there wasn’t a bustling port. It was a soggy stretch of salt marsh that led to tidal mudflats. The only boat I’d seen there is the ribs of the broken rowboat that jutted out of the mud as if to warn potential sailors. We then looked to the sky for any signs of freak weather that could have hurled the anchor from its original home. But we were met with an unassuming placid blue sky. Perhaps it was an elaborate prank, though the logistics of the small lane surely made this impossible and there was no trail left if the anchor had been dragged. Maybe Mr. Merch, with his mild tendency for the most passive of passive aggression had somehow angered Poseidon or some other sea god.

Mr. Merch continued to inspect the shockingly mild damage the anchor had inflicted on his lawn I came forward to get a closer look. The dark metal seemed to absorb the hazy morning light. I suddenly felt a chill that made the hairs on my arm prick up. I crouched to inspect the curved base and noticed something. It looked almost like a limpet, or that’s the closest creature I can think of as an equivalent. A small shell with something hiding beneath that I felt certain held to the anchor tighter as my eyes fixed on it. Wherever the anchor had come from, it had not come alone.