One Hundred Short Stories

1. Nyra and the Sea

A journey from the sea to the land, from safety to danger, from life to death

  The water gently caressed Nyra’s body as she watched her parents disappear into the murk and gloom of the ocean. For a second she could glimpse the end of her mother’s tail in the deep blue, ever changing water, and then – she was gone.

  Sadness welled up in Nyra’s heart as her parents’ good-byes and well wishes slowly got quieter as they swam gracefully away. Nyra understood why they had to go, but understanding didn’t ease the pain of being without out them for the first time in her life. She was definitely going to miss them.

  She could still hear their reminders, warnings and good-byes floating towards her through the water, fading with every second.

  Don’t go too close to land. Don’t go too far out to sea either. Stay in safe waters. Don’t go near where the sharks are and please, please be careful.

  I will, Mum. Nyra promised, her vow echoing its way towards them. I know.

  Goodbye, Nyra.

  Goodbye, Mum. Goodbye, Dad. I’ll see you soon.

  Alone. Nyra’s mother and father gone, the sadness swelled alarmingly as Nyra contemplated the time ahead. She would have to wait for the moon to shrink down to a skinny curl of stray seaweed. Then it would grow back, as the currents changed and tossed the seaweed, revealing that it was larger than she first presumed. Finally the moon would be full again, majestic and shining over the black mysterious water, a perfect circle like a smooth and flawless white stone which had been tossed and shaped by the sea and the sand. Then her parents would come back.

  Nyra decided to wander. Not too far of course, but maybe she would go in the general direction her parents had gone. It would make her feel closer to them.

  The water washed past her body as she glided through the water, calling all the time to determine where she was. The sound bounced off the seaweed and the nearby fish so Nyra knew she wasn’t in dangerous territory. Shark territory.

  Nyra.

  Nyra’s head jerked up suddenly as her name echoed through the water.

  Mum? she asked, although she was certain about who the voice had belonged to.

  Nyra. Come.

  Nyra turned around, a long, graceful move through the water ending in a flick of her tail. She swam forward, conscious of the direction her mother’s voice came from.

  Nyra. Nyra! Come quickly!

  Nyra swam quicker to where her mother’s voice came from, her body heaving up and down, her swimming becoming clumsier as she raced to her mother’s voice.

  Nyra! Nyra!

  She sounded like she was hurt. The call was low and urgent. Nyra sensed the presence of another whale and urged them:

  Please come, follow me!  I need help!

  The other whale fell in stride behind Nyra as she continued to swim towards the voice.

  Are you sure you know where you’re going? asked the whale.

  Yes! exclaimed Nyra. Keep following.

  We’re getting close to shore… worried the other whale, but such details were trivial to Nyra. Her mother was what mattered.

  The pair passed more whales and Nyra urged them to follow. The whales expressed doubt – they were getting worryingly close to the shore – but Nyra was unrelenting and eventually they followed, like the first.

  Nyra. Nyra … Come…

  I’m coming, Mum! called Nyra.

  At least half a dozen whales were following Nyra. The water was getting shallower but Nyra wasn’t concerned until she felt sand brushing against her belly.

  Don’t go too close to land.

  Panicking, Nyra tried to turn and swim back into the safety of the ocean. The water was too shallow, and the sand scratched her smooth skin. The tide went back out to sea and Nyra was exposed to the dawn sunlight and cold air. The water came back, in the form of waves, and pushed her further up the sand.

  Nyra… said her mother sadly, although the voice was now muffled. Nyra …

  Loud noises came from the beach. Strange creatures poured water over her but it was nothing compared to the gentle currents of the sea. Nyra groaned and sank deeper into the sand. Her vision blurred, slowly being eaten away by blackness, firstly the edges then gradually closer to the middle. She felt tired.

  Nyra…

  The last thing she saw was the sun.

***

  A wind was moving through the trees in the grey, glum city. It picked up a slightly scruffy-looking newspaper which had been abandoned near a bin and tossed it down the street lined with glaring, identical tall buildings, rolling the collection of stories about famous people being married and sports stars around over and over again. A little boy picked it up and tugged on the sleeve of his mother.

  “Mummy,” he said, “Listen to my reading: ‘An-o-ther mass way-el beaching shocks our – our –um… cit-i-zens’.”

  “Oh Lord, that’s awful,” exclaimed the mother, peering down at the black and white photograph of nine whales lined up on the sand. One in particular was shockingly small.

  “Will they get better?” pleaded the boy, tugging on his mother’s sleeve again.

  “No,” replied the mother. Then she sighed and looked up at the grey, expressionless sky. “There’s nothing we can do to help them.”