Mushaka loved to play on the beach. He was just a small primate, standing no taller than one meter if he could have stood, but he couldn’t. He loped about and looked a little awkward, but in reality he was a fast runner and certainly a good climber. At five years old, he was still a juvenile, apt to be playful and easily distracted. 

He never went to the beach alone, and never at low tide, even if it was hot. It was too dangerous then, for the large Kasta’s, aggressive bear-like creatures, would roam the beaches looking for fish that may have been trapped in the rock pools on an out-going tide. Being discovered by a Kasta was something that young primates barely had the courage to think about. If a Kasta found you, it meant serious trouble, for Kastas were relentless stalkers. They would pursue you, and even if you climbed a tree, they would wait until you were so hungry or thirsty that you had no option but to come down. Unless there were many trees, so that you could jump from one to another to make an escape, things would be especially bad for you. A Kasta wouldn’t just kill you. He would rip large chunks of your skin off and eat it while holding your leg so you couldn’t get away, and he would seem to enjoy watching you suffer, knowing that soon he would be tearing off more skin.

This day, Mushaka was with his two younger sisters, Kala and Goi, who were three and two years old, and his mother, who’s name was Tarei. It was a beautiful sunny day, and the sea was a brilliant turquoise color, with small waves lapping the sand, leaving white foam behind as they receded to make room for the next wave. All along the beach, for as far as Mushaka could see, were long strands of flat seaweed. It was safe to touch, and under Tarei’s watchful eye, Mushaka and the girls ran along the waters’ edge, chasing each other, sometimes picking up seaweed and trying to wrap it around each other in a sort of  “I’m tying you up” game.

But soon the girls tired of this game, and they left Mushaka to return to the comfort of their mother, who had been sitting high up on the beach, so that she could monitor both the sand and the trees behind her. She knew that Kastas were not the only beach predators. Other animals could be lurking in the dunes or the nearby grass, and she needed to be on guard.

Mushaka decided it would be fun to run into the water, and then when it was up to his knees, run back out, trying to scoop up tiny fish in his hand on the way out. He never got any fish, but it was fun trying. Tarei was now distracted by the girls, who were running around her in circles throwing sand everywhere, some of which was getting into their mother’s eyes.

Mushaka had now decided to just sit still on the beach, close to the water’s edge. He was holding a length of seaweed, and began wrapping it around his forearm, like a bandage. The other end was in the water, so he had no idea how long it was. He sat with his feet facing the sea, and his ankles were resting on piles of seaweed strands. They were cool and refreshing on the back of his legs, and if he kept really still, he could feel the slipperiness moving gently across his calves.

Then, he became aware that his make-believe bandage seemed to have been wrapped too tight, and he began to feel the seaweed grasp his arm more firmly.

As he looked down, he saw that the seaweed was twirling around his leg, faster and faster, until it had captured his entire leg. He sat bewildered, thinking that it must be the water moving the seaweed. Was it playing a game?

But it now began grasping him with crushing force. Both his arm and his leg were bound securely, and with a sudden furious movement, the seaweed rose into the air, lifting Mushaka as though he were in a sling-shot, and he flew through the air towards the sea.

Tarei had seen him flying, but she had no time to even move from her sitting position, before Mushaka was flung into the sea. All Tarei heard was a shriek and then Mushaka was gone, but in a moment she saw him again, thrashing about in the shallow water, screaming louder than she had ever heard and being dragged out into the deeper darker blue ocean.

She was almost airborne herself, racing down to the water to jump in and rescue her lovely, lovely child. As she approached, there was a huge rushing sound and the water appeared to be boiling, a bubbling mixture of white and blue-green. Then suddenly, an enormous head with tentacles hanging down from it rose from the sea. Two huge black eyes looked at Tarei, as the tentacles rolled away from her with her son crushed inside them. The monstrous creature jumped upwards as though it was going to leap right out of the water, but then it went back down. As it did, the water changed from a pristine blue to a deep red and Tarei knew she could do nothing.

Then, there was the quietness of the nearly still water again, like it had been only moments earlier. Tarei began running into the water, but then out fear for her own life, she retreated to the sand, wailing and jumping up and down, running in circles and screaming out loudly. “Mushaka! Mushaka! My beautiful child! This cannot be real”, she would have been thinking, if she had known language, but she did not. But her grief must surely have caused her to be thinking such things in her own way.

She collapsed on the beach, wailing and beating the sand with her massive arms, and her heels were stamping too. This was an incredible display of anguish; one which would bring any parent to tears, but which no-one would dare console for fear of being killed in a frenzy of grief.

After some time, Tarei began to regain her composure, and looking around, saw that Kala and Goi were near her, but instinctively, not that close that they could be harmed by her. She lay on the sand breathing deeply, her enormous chest rising into the air, her giant hairy nippled breasts flopping forwards and backwards as though they were trapped in the ocean’s waves.

Tarei was unable to cry tears, but she could lament, and so for a little longer she laid there, pulling at the hairs on her midriff, barely able to sense the needs of her two remaining daughters. They were still and quiet, too terrified to move or to make any sound at all. Neither of them knew exactly what had happened. They had seen some splashing, and then they were knocked over by their mother. By the time they managed to get down to her, their brother had simply disappeared, and their mother was spinning in circles on the beach.

Although Tarei could never have known, the monster that took Mushaka was a type of giant squid which in those times, around 55,100 BCE, were fairly prevalent on Earth, or to be more precise, in the waters of Earth. These creatures could grow to 30 meters in length (including their tentacles), and would lay traps in the sand for careless beach dwellers. After capturing their meal, they would retreat to the deep waters where they normally lived. Their trickery was superbly effective, and one could be excused for suspecting it was intelligently planned.   

There were many different, terrifying sea creatures in those days. Some of the giant sharks were 20 meters long, and they were ferocious killing machines that patrolled the sea, to the detriment of any fish they caught site of. But this was time when everything was abundant. Just like the birds of this age, there was no shortage of fish in the seas, and these giant sharks could hardly have made a dent in the fish population even if there were a hundred times as many of them.

It was a time of transformation, and different species of animals, reptiles and fish seemed to be popping in and out of existence. There were even fish that flew low over the water, hurtling deep downwards whenever they saw a meal below them and then launching themselves back into flight from beneath the waves. Ironically, even some of these would be caught by other fish that could jump upwards and out of the water, because with their full bellies, they were heavy and sluggish, and often struggled to attain a safe altitude.

Such flying fish may have been remnants or even mutations of other fish or birds from long ago, like the Calouna from a million years earlier. The Calouna was a true hybrid creature; a reptile, a bird and a fish all in one. It was like an experimental creature, or perhaps a catalyst for future species of each of these separate creatures. With thick skin like a lizard, sharp claws, teeth in a bill, as well as wings, the Calouna was indeed a predator to contend with, no matter what you were. But now there were no Calounas. A failed experiment, or a purpose served?

If there had been people, they would have been no match for many of these beasts of the land, sea and air. If they were to stand any chance at all, they would need to devise some methods of defense, which would involve the making of weapons, which of course would require tools. But right now there were no such helpless beings on planet Earth.