When You’re in the Mood for a Story

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An Undersea Treasure Hunt

Scurchin the Urchin considered himself to be bold. Daring. He was quite proud of this fact, because he had worked hard to achieve this characteristic. When he was small, his older siblings used to tease him about how timid he was at everything. He was afraid to swim beyond the far, red reef for fear of sea otters. He was intimidated by Mr. Leo—their grumpy, old Lionfish neighbor. Even trying new foods made his orange spikes droop.

They used to call him “Scare-chin.”  

But no more. He took the bull by the horns. He asked his older brother, Stewart, to take him camping beyond the red reef—they stayed up the whole night waiting for sea otters to appear, and when they didn’t show, his fear evaporated. Scurchin challenged himself to make introductions with Mr. Leo at Seaween and found that he was actually a super nice old Lionfish. He gave out giant-sized barnacle bars, and he’s even promised to give Scurchin ukulele lessons in the fall. Scurchin also forced himself to be a taste explorer—trying bites of Sponge Pudding, Algae Stew, and Barnacle Hotdish. He discovered he really liked Sponge Pudding.

He was no longer Scare-chin. He was now: Scurchin the Bold.

And his hard work was going to pay off! Scurchin had emboldened himself to finally enter the Eastern Sea Annual Treasure Hunt.

Each year, the Eastern Sea High Council put on a treasure hunt for the kids in the Mona Island Reef community. They didn’t make it easy—you had to perform feats of daring and adventure before taking home the ultimate prize: The Golden Seaweed.

This trophy was the envy of all underwater creatures from here to the Bermuda Triangle. Forged from the shiny metal found in the ol’ shipwreck on the Bedrock side of town, the trophy gleamed with each ray of sunshine that filtered in through the ocean’s surface. It practically glowed like its own sun. 

The line for turning in the entry forms was thirty creatures-deep, at least. Scurchin had been waiting for what seemed like an eternity, and he was finally second in line. The fish in front of him turned around and looked down.

“You an urchin? Are urchins even allowed to enter? It’s gonna take you forever to get to the first clue,” the behemoth of a Grouper fish said before responding to the call of, “Next!” from the fish behind the intake desk.

Scurchin shrugged, straightened his spikes, and took his place at the head of the line. He wasn’t intimidated. It took more than speed to win this competition. It took daring. And cunning. And bravado. He had enough of all that to spare.

“Next!”

Scurchin scuttled his tube feet forward, conscious to go as quickly as possible.

“Hello, good sir. I would like to enter the Eastern Sea Treasure Hunt, if you please.”

“I should hope so,” the scratchy voice of the Tarpon fish said, “otherwise you’ve been standing all morning in the wrong line.”