Something’s different. Approaching the beach I feel it immediately. There’s something unknown, like a song caught on a breeze that you can’t quite hear. The wind whips my hair, slapping me across my cheeks. Salt is thick in the air, it tastes as bitter as the cold, but even so, a large crowd has already turned out.
I came as soon as I heard, running from my stall in the harbour, not even considering that I was leaving it wide open. The man in front of me rushes, accidentally kicking a child’s crab bucket over, causing crying from the boy and crabs to slip all over the walkway, unable to tell the direction of the sea. We scurried away from the harbour, to the point where industry gives way to wide beaches flanked by lawns, promenades and the suntrap making windbreakers. And then ¾ she was there. A demonstrative humpback whale beached on tiny pebbles.
There’s no blood. That’s the first thing I think. I don’t know why I had assumed there would be. Actually, I lie. There’s no blood was my second thought, my first was a half-formed thing ¾ a shock, a sharp intake of air, the size!
Continue reading ‘Whale Song’ by Nicola Bourne on The Stockholm Review of Literature…
The cleverest part of short stories is how in very few words the author can fit so much in and still unsettle your nerves! If this Halloween you fancy reading a little tale that’s a bit spine-tingling-creepy, I have the perfect thing…
It seems incredible that this story was published 70 years ago then it feels so current. One of my favourite short stories ever written and it still freaks me out!
There is something about including childhood innocence in a to a story that always adds a level of discomfort, especially in this tale.
What would you wish for if you had three wishes? And more importantly, are you sure you really want it?
They say when someone dies that they leave a hole in your heart but I don’t think that’s true.
Instead, they add something to your heart. It has the shape and weight of a large boulder and its forever in the way. It makes it hard for your heart to keep working. Hard to breathe. I tried explaining that to a woman at work and she told me about someone her friend knew who had a tumour inside their heart the size of a pea. I think she thought that would help. Empathizing by sharing a parallel story. They did both involve hearts. Maybe the emphasis was lost over text message.
That is why I bought him online.
Read the rest…
Published on www.50GS.com, 14th March 2018