pincers - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Pincers at the ready, the lobster made a stand, legs braced against the rocky beach. Each claw was bottom heavy with a thick arch of salmon hued armour, the thinner and more mobile top pincer already moving in anticipation. Todd rubbed his fingers and made a brief cross over his chest before moving in. Just once before had lobster pincers clasped him between serrations of boney exoskeleton - not something he would quickly forget.
The lobster backed across the gritty sand, pincers raised. Each one was the size of a five year old's hand. I had expected them to have a dark salmon coloration, but even in the sharp early morning light they were closer to black. Each claw glistened wet with the briny water he'd just been dredged up from in the cage. Todd could see Cara had half a heart to let this sea-dinosaur go, but for him this crustacean was supper. Todd moved forward with the net, tape poking out of his back jean pocket ready to bind the pincers...
Upon the hot sand lay a pincer, a delicate shade of pinky-peach aside from the inky tips. Up close it had an almost mechanical look, like if you opened it up there would be wires and cogs instead of decaying flesh partially cooked by the summer sun. Trina let a laugh tumble out to the gentle waves. Somewhere out there was a one-armed crab scavenging the seabed, unbalanced, no longer remembering that once his life was simpler.
In the pool were hundreds of tiny crabs, each one with a kelp-green shell. Each time Trina disturbed the weed in the rock pool, they made a new dash for cover. Trina dipped her hand into the salty water, surprised by how warm it was. She scooped her fingers after the mini-crustaceans and brought her hand back into the sunlight, the droplets falling, circles of ripples spreading to the edge of the pool only to bounce back and fade. She opened her fingers to find her captives desperately trying to use their pincers on her skin. Each claw was no bigger than a grain of risotto rice and in truth she wasn't even sure if she could feel the tickle or not. She held her hand over the water again and let them fall back to their briny home.
...the pincers had taken their inspiration from nature. The bottom part was the larger piece, smoothly curved a the base, pretty even, but on the upper surface were ridges sharper than any creatures claw. The top part was far thinner than any pincer Riley had ever seen before, no more than a centimetre in diameter but razor sharp with complementary ridges to the base. They moved as if thought controlled, fluid, soundless. The robot watchman was nothing if not flashy, but he had the feeling it was more of a distraction. Why pincers and not guns? There was something else here, something more...
The pincers themselves were works of art, a soft brown colour, like coffee with too much cream. Along the edges were darker patches in perfect lines, just touches of a richer hue. The crab himself had darker legs and eye-stalks, his shell a mottle of the two shades. With pincers raised he made his side-ways scuttle across the cold morning sands until he felt it shift under his legs. In moments he was buried, lost under the swirling grains.
In the flicker of the candlelight the scorpion was more black than the night outside. His pincers were raised, yet held in toward his head, like a boxer holding his hands in ready to take a jab. Each inky claw had a swollen bulb right behind the long serrated edges, ugly and menacing. Yet for all the display with his pincers, it was the curling tail that scared us the most. A pinch would be painful but the poison soon after would be deadly.
The pincer curled downward at the top, Todd held it in his hand. There was something about the shape that reminded him of a pterodactyl beak. In the gap between the two peachy arcs was a row of creamy "teeth." He raised it to his nose. There was no odor of decay, only the ocean. Whatever had separated this claw from its owner had been recent.
The crab's pincers were like the coral of the area, shaded a delicate peach and cream with raised bumps of nearly white. They weren't nearly large enough to make Sally retreat, but enough to give her reason to pause. This crab was one to take swiftly from behind. The claws opened as she made her approach, hair tucked behind eyes and her salty lips pressed together.