Day 10 of my surf Norway trip, and we came upon a coastline with strange rock formations. Theorizing that they were caused by intense tides, we got ready to shred some surf. The water was calm, but we waited. We paddled out and enjoyed the area’s placid, bewitching beauty.
One wave swelled in the middle of the bay.
An odd wave, pushed from below. “Whale!” I shouted, for I’d seen that before. This I had not.
The creature was longer than a whale, sinuous like a snake. It tore through our group and right up onto the shore, slicing through rocks like a hot knife through “smør” (as the locals say). When it had eaten its fill of us it disappeared back into the glassy water, never to be seen again. Only I survived, and only by luck.
I will be returning home soon. The ocean no longer seems inviting.
Sincerely,
Robert
I guess the mission was a success. Save the arctic, right? Sea ice, polar bears, all that good stuff. The tech was experimental but it had worked in test applications from Coast Guard icebreakers. Icespreaders, they now were.
Maybe it was something to do with the wooden hull of this old relic that caused the reaction to go all Ice-9 on us.
Polar bears love it. We hear them stalking around on the frozen expanse. Good stuff.
I hope the Coast Guard icespreaders can still break when they need to. Otherwise it will be a long winter.
Sincerely,
Roald
You’ve seen my 3 brothers: they pose eternally, bewitched by the same sprite that cursed me. You see, one day they saw a bear chasing a monkey. My first brother gawked, enjoying the spectacle. The second couldn’t stop blabbering long enough to hear the monkey’s screams, while the third egged the bear on (the monkey owed him money). The bear ate the monkey, and the sprite wept (they’d had a thing). She blamed my brothers. All of us, really. See, I would’ve been there, and I would’ve helped, but … something distracted me. So now they don’t see, don’t speak, don’t hear. And I? Well, I got the best of the bewitching.
Sincerely,
A monkey whose relationship to evil shall remain undefined
My family came over from Norway some 100 years ago. I don’t remember that. I live in the U.S., and the time before is only a story told so many times I now believe it.
So back I went to find my family. They weren’t what I expected. Norwegians on TV are always beautiful, sleek and smiling. These… weren’t. They laughed at me: “What has America done to you?” But what were they—or I—to do? Family is family. So we go over the hills to meet the rest. Or so they say. I can’t shake the feeling that something is amiss.
With mild trepidation,
Nils Anders Wik
This is the last known photo of the skiers. They’d lived in Norway all their lives, but even they could see that the snow was deeper than usual, piled sky-high along the sides of the road, turning the road itself into a mere pathway in an ant farm.
Have you ever seen what happens when you shake an ant farm?
The avalanche that buried the road was ruled a natural occurrence. But no one has ever satisfactorily explained what happened to the skiers’ bodies. Or what made those large prints in the snow—bigger than a man, bigger than a bear!
I will always wonder what sort of creature is toying with us insects.
Sincerely,
Susan
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