The World's Loneliest Whale

This creative short story was submitted as part of Catalyst’s 2020 Writing Contest. To view more submissions from the Writing Contest, please visit utcatalyst.org/writing-contest.

Photo Credit: Cameron Venti

Courtesy of Unsplash

Authors Note: The 52-hertz whale is a single whale, somewhere out there in the depths of the ocean, which calls at the unique frequency of 52 hertz. First discovered in the late 1980s, the cry of this whale  has been detected all around the world. From the harsh, cold waters of the Atlantic to the crystal clear reefs in Oceania, scientists everywhere are fascinated by this whale. So fascinated, that they gave it its own name: “The World’s Loneliest Whale.”  

There’s this place where all the trees have been washed away. Thousands of years ago, it  was a blossoming island that the people proudly called “The Land of Hope.” My grandfather  once told me that seeds were scattered all over the land and the humans danced to their gods for  rain. Over the years, it became engulfed by the waters, and the steady waves crumbled the hard,  unforgiving cliffs until there was nothing to be seen above sea level. Until there was an echo—a  bleak cry shrieked from the depths of a bottomless pit. We called it home. Now, only I call it home.  

We made the waters our home. We were a small family, but we were bound by our  language, always conversing at the frequency of 52 hertz. I thought that we would spend our  days together, as a family. But the people hunted. They hunted us until our lives became a blur of  looking behind us and scanning the waters for the glint of a torpedo reflecting the sun. They  hunted us until they picked us off one by one. They hunted us until there were none of us left to  hunt. Until I was alone. A deep hatred burned in me with every sea vessel I saw, with every fisherman I encountered, with every trace of humankind that dared to show its face on the waters. When I could, I batted at the boats, with the fierceness of a thousand suns, fueled by the power of my ancestors and the bitterness of being left alone.  

I was shunned by the others. The animals may pride themselves in being less cruel than the people of the land, but we are still cruel. Like animals that we are, we divide ourselves into packs. There were the fin whales, who prided themselves in their speed. In their ability to catch even the most elusive prey. They gleefully chattered to each other as they sped past me and into the night. There were the killer whales: the apex predators who you didn’t dare cross. There were the blue whales. The poster children. Harmless. Handsome. Their names graced the Guinness record books and the National Geographic covers. And for it, they were pretentious, mocking me the loudest. Eventually, I tired of the constant jeers that I couldn’t understand.  

Nights became mornings  

Every day went on for years  

I turned and I swam  

The Whale wandered the sea. Tired and alone, it shrieked its cry to the heavens, as if angry at a God that had turned its back. But the heavens answered. Above the waters, the same species that hunted the 52-hertz whales now called out to the world’s loneliest whale. After years of grueling research, sleepless nights, and rejected papers, scientists found a way to replicate the cry. The Whale may not have forgotten the sins of humanity, but loneliness is a powerful motivator to put aside an old grudge. While Science listened, The Whale answered.