ARR 1988 - Flipbook - Page 50
Deep Wailing Razor Boy
You sleep uneasily in your berth. The eerie sounds begin and the ship
rolls. Hardwood and pins, sail and rope, and every evening the strange songs
begin and you fall into a restless sleep: the ship creaks and the wind whistles
through the rigging; the sea is salty and you take your living from it. You
wake in the twilight hours and the songs have stopped; you move slowly to
the foredeck and stand your watch with the Aurora Australis playing across
your mind. You begin to drowse, your watch over, and you return to your
berth below deck. You begin falling into a sound restful sleep and your heart
begins to wince. The sounds have started once again. You listen and sense
they are telling an old and beautiful story, but to your sorrow you don't
understand.
You arise to a sun-filled day and sharpen your razor; you are behind
the herd, but you will challenge them tomorrow. The mid-watch is over and
you pass the time sharpening the other harpoons. These razors are your lifestyle. As you hone them, you think of the songs in the night and wonder.
You close on the herd and they lower the first boat; the songs begin to
echo in your mind and you clamber aboard. The little boat leaves the security
and protection of the ship, and you stand in the bow holding your razor at the
ready. The cold sea breaks over the bow-rail and the spume and spray hit
you. The water swells and the gigantic sleek contradiction gently surfaces
and you thrust your harpoon deep into the beast: But this one doesn't fight
and as it dies it makes an eerie sound and you think of the songs in the night.
Jeffrey M. Kinsley
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