undertow
A short story by Shaun Tan
A reading of Shaun Tan's short story: Undertow from Tales of Outer Suburbia
The house at number seventeen was only ever mentioned with lowered voices by the neighbors. They knew well the frequent sounds of shouting, slamming doors, and crashing objects. But one sultry summer night, something else happened, something far more interesting: the appearance of a large marine animal on the front lawn.
By midmorning, all the neighbors had spotted this mysterious, gently breathing creature. Naturally, they gathered around for a better look.
“It's a dugong,” said a small boy. “The dugong is a rare and endangered plant-eating mammal that lives in the Indian Ocean, of the order Sirenia, family Dugongidae, genus Dugong, species D. dugon.”
None of which explained how it came to be in their street, at least four kilometers from the nearest beach. In any case, the neighbors were far more concerned with attending to the stranded animal using buckets, hoses, and wet blankets, just as they had seen whale-rescuers do on TV.
When the young couple who lived at number seventeen finally emerged to survey the scene, bleary-eyed and confused, their immediate impulse was toward anger and recrimination.
“Is this your idea of a JOKE?” they shouted at each other, and at some of the neighbors as well. But this soon gave way to silent bewilderment when challenged by the sheer absurdity of the situation. There was nothing for them to do but assist the rescue effort by turning on the front sprinklers and calling an appropriate emergency service, if such a thing existed (a matter they debated at some length, impatiently grabbing the phone from each other's hands).
While waiting for the experts, the neighbors took turns to pat and reassure the dugong, speaking to its slowly blinking eye — which struck each of them as being filled with deep sadness — and putting an ear against its warm, wet hide to hear something very low and far away, but otherwise indescribable.
The arrival of the rescue truck was an almost unwelcome interruption. With flashing orange lights and council workers in bright yellow overalls ordering everyone to stand back, their efficiency was impressive. They even had a special kind of hoist and a bath just big enough to comfortably hold a good-sized seagoing mammal. In a matter of minutes, they had loaded the dugong into the vehicle and driven away, as if they dealt with this sort of problem all the time.
Later that evening, the neighbors switched impatiently between news channels to see if there was any mention of the dugong and, when there wasn't, concluded that the whole event was possibly not as remarkable as they had originally thought.
The couple at number seventeen went back to shouting at each other, this time about fixing the front lawn. The grass that had been underneath the dugong was now unaccountably yellow and dead, as if the creature had been there for years rather than hours. Then the discussion became about something else entirely and an object, maybe a plate, crashed against a wall.
Nobody saw the small boy clutching an encyclopedia of marine zoology leave the front door of that house, creep toward the dugong-shaped patch, and lie down in the middle of it, arms by his sides, looking at the clouds and stars, hoping it would be a long time before his parents noticed that he wasn't in his room and came out angry and yelling. How odd it was, then, when they both eventually appeared without a sound, without suddenness.
How strange that all he felt were gentle hands lifting him up and carrying him back to bed.
WolfCast Home Page – Listen, follow, subscribe
Thank you for coming here and walking through the garden of my mind. No day is as brilliant in its moment as it is gilded in memory. Embrace your experience and relish gorgeous recollection.
Into every life a little light will shine. Thank you for being my luminance in whatever capacity you may. Shine on, you brilliant souls!
— Go back home and read MORE by Wolf Inwool
— Visit the archive
I welcome feedback at my inbox
