Remarkable creatures by tracy chevalier 42

alargebumpabovewherethejawwashinged.Rockcoveredsomeofit,butit
looked to be circular, like a bread roll sitting on a saucer. From the curve you
might think it were part of an ammonite, but there were no spiral with spines
going round. Instead there were plates of bone overlaid round a big empty
socket.Istaredatthatsocketandgotthefeelingitwasstaringback.
“Isthatitseye?”Iasked.
“Thinkso.”
Ishuddered,oneofthemshiversthatcomeoveryouwhenyou’renoteven
coldbutyoucan’tstopyourself.Ididn’tknowcrocodileeyescouldbesobig.In
the picture Miss Elizabeth showed me the croc had little piggy eyes, not huge
owly ones. It made me feel odd looking at that eye, like there was a world of
curiosities I didn’t know about: crocodiles with huge eyes and snakes with no
heads and thunderbolts God threw down that turned to stone. Sometimes I got
thathollowed-outfeelingtoowhenlookingataskyfullofstarsorintothedeep
waterthefewtimesIwentoutinaboat,andIdidn’tlikeit:itwasasiftheworld
weretoostrangeformeevertounderstandit.ThenIwouldhavetogoandsitin
Chapel until I felt I could let God take care of all the mysteries and the worry
wentaway.
“How long is it?” I said, trying to make sense of the monster by asking
questions.
“Dunno—threeorfourfeet,justtheskull.”Joeranhishandovertherockto
therightofthejawandeye.“Don’tseethebody.”
Bitsoflooseshaletumbleddownthecliffandfellnearus.Welookedup
andsteppedback,butnothingfurthercomedown.
Iglancedatbaby,wrappedupinhiscocoonsohelookedlikeacaterpillar.
He’dstoppedwhimperingandwassquintingintothegreysky.Icouldn’ttellif
hewerefollowingthecloudsthatscuddedacross.
FardownthebeachatCharmouthtwomenwerepullingarowboatdown
to the shore, out to check lobster pots. Joe and I quick stepped back from the
cliff,likechildrencaughteyeingaplateofcakes.Themenweretoofarawayto
seewherewewereorwhatweweredoing,butwewerestillcautious.Though

fewhuntedthewaywedid,peopleweresuretobeinterestedinsuchathingas
thecroc.AndnowIcouldseeit,itwassoobviousinthecliff,withitsforestof
teethandsaucereye,thatIwassuresomeoneelsewouldsoonspotit.
“Wegottodigoutthecroc,”Isaid.
“Weneverduganythingthisbig,”Joesaid.“Couldweevenliftfourfeetof
rock?”
He was right. I had used my hammer to get ammos out of rocks on the
beach,andoutofthecliff,butmostofthetimeweletthewindandtherainwear