by Luca Rosner
Everything that the now no longer quite so small turtle has had to observe up to now becomes null and void and important at the same time with the blink of an eye.
In the sand snorts a whale fighting for life, probably a beaked whale, or a large dolphin.
“What happened?”, the little girl blurts out, “you whales don’t go ashore!”
Of course, she knows that the marine mammal got into this mess unintentionally.
She feels stupid blaming him and sitting idly by.
What could she possibly do?
“Please, stay with me. You cannot help me”, she gets asked, “don’t leave me alone in my distress. I still have so much to tell. I don’t want the world to forget my family.”
Of course, the turtle agrees.
Has she looked the other way so far and acted as if everything was fine, this time she would do it differently.
Thus the whale wrestles the summary of its history from itself with the last deep breaths.
At a tender age, he was hiking the common route in the group when they were suddenly pursued, eventually hunted, and the others ultimately killed.
The monsters of the surface that drove them, thrust metal claws and spikes into the school until the last survivors fled in all directions through a veil of blood of their family.
A short silence in mourning overcomes the enumerator before he struggles for breath one last time and concludes his report: “A tremendous sound wave has hit me. It must have come from a being whose size I dare not to imagine. The air here at the beach is unpleasant, I would like to sleep now. Thank you, little one!”
Unable to process what it has just heard, the turtle must flee when humans arrive and begin flashing small rectangles at the whale.
From a safe distance, she observes a scene that looks like people are trying to transport the whale back to the sea.
© Luca Rosner 2022-10-28