She had been told the word for the first time last night. Whale. Even the word excited her. How it started in her lips and moved back onto her tongue. It was as if she could capture the huge creature just by saying its name. She kept it inside of her, let it buzz in the back of her throat.

The island had not heard of a living thing this big for as long as she had been alive. The whale was only spoken about in hushed voices; no-one said its name out loud.

‘It’s an alien,’ said one boy in her class.

‘It’s what God gives us when we’ve been bad,’ said another.

There were many explanations, but all of the island could agree on its death. Within a day the sighs of the whale had been silenced. It had made no sound as the ropes were pulled and pellets fell – even when the crane loomed, and the blade opened her up, her insides left unguarded under the uncertain sky.

The girl woke up that morning in a small pool of brown blood. She felt it sticky against her skin. She knew nothing had died inside her in the night, although this is what it looked like. Diligently, she stripped her bed and submerged the pale sheets into cold water. Sitting on the ledge of the bath, she held her own hands, her fingers interlaced and freezing from keeping the floating fabric underwater. ...