He rested at the
surface of the water, slow breaths blowing a spout as waves washed over his
back, covering his blowhole and slapping gently against his dorsal ridge. Each
wave was different, warm or chill, as the sun vied with the ocean depths for
primacy. A few birds swooped in the air, and some floated around him, hoping he
would dive down and bring fish to them in his great ring bubbles. He could hear
their shrill cries above the water. They never answered his song. No one did.
None of his kind.
How long had he
swum in the great oceans? How far had he travelled? How many times had he
tilted down toward the deep and sung his song? Why did no one answer? Why was
he all alone? His great wings drooped, and he moaned a long, lonely note. The
birds wheeled and cried above him, but no one answered.
Note:
I’d like to work on this story, about the “52 Herz
Whale”, but I’m not sure where to take the story yet. We’ll see if I return. Do
you hear lonely whale song and crying seagulls (well, fulmars and shearwaters,
but he wouldn’t call them that) in the intro above?
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Dogs
in house:
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Houdini
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Music
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Paul Winter, whale song
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Time
writing
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20 minutes, plus about 45 mins research
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June
word count
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5,911
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