a short story by Katrin Stamm

Seated upon the weathered landing stage, the setting sun behind me, I watched the quiet transformations of the sea. After a hot and sweltering day, a few lingering swimmers still enjoyed the waters’ cool embrace, occasionally darting to evade the stinging jellyfish, that drifted lazily beneath the surface – all while the sea exhaled its tangy breath of salt and seaweed. At last, the sun vanished behind the park’s silhouetted treetops, pursued by the wind that forever chases her across the globe. A new swarm of white jellyfish, like ghostly messengers, heralded the arrival of the waves the wind had overtaken on its chase, which now began to break upon the shore. The undulating surface of the water caught my gaze: the waves, rebounding from the shore, were rushing towards the horizon, grey smoke on black and glassy liquid, skimming over obsidian waters, rolling the opposite direction, towards the shore – leaving myself suspended in between the tides, advancing and retreating simultaneously, in limbo. As wind and waves gradually softened, strange, mesmerizing hues began to bloom upon the surface of the sea. The rushing swirls of smoke, riding the liquid glass, slowly stilled into pools, spilling into each other, mingling with molten silver islands, each rimmed in gold – reflections of the sun’s aurelian afterglow. Then, suddenly, a cool breeze brushed across my face, the harbinger of night, ending my reverie, reminding me that it was time to head back home.