Soaring
written by: Nelly Shulman
The western wind cried all through the night, and when at dawn Max opened the shutters at the top of the lighthouse, the gales were so strong he almost lost his balance.
The endless ocean raged below the stone tower, perched on the highest rock of the barren island. Max had come here by an old boat now swinging like a pendulum, thrown from side to side by the dark green beasts of waves. Hitting the lighthouse bottom, their white manes hissed with fury.
The leaden sky outside promised an entrance of grander storm, but an eerie emerald shine illuminated the horizon. The alabaster-white clouds next to it provided a much-needed refuge for pilgrims coming to the festival of lights.
Max, a lighthouse keeper, was expected on the sky platforms where his people gathered every year to give thanks to this inhospitable, windswept land which had sheltered them from time immemorial, but the imminent storm ruined his chances for a boat trip.
“There is still hope,” he listened to the voice of the wind.
At first, Max thought he was imagining things, but then a distinct low grumble came to him from the ocean’s midst. Taking a rope, he ran down the stairs, skipping steps on the way. The wind had almost carried him off the tiny beach and the waves soaked him through, but Max managed to make a loop from the rope.
The sound grew deeper and Max smiled. He had seen this so many times, but the miracle never ceased to amaze him. A humongous whale emerged from the depths of the waters and Max threw the loop. The whale sang and, climbing onto the boat, Max secured the rope.
“Let’s go,” he shouted, and the whale soared to the sky.
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