A sea without water

The hall smelled of tangerines. Six children were already sitting on cushions in front of the puppet theatre. Behind its curtain, Mr Ilyas was doing something to an octopus. One purple tentacle poked out beneath the edge.

The play was about a fisherman who caught a boot with a garden growing inside it. Mila had helped cut out the flowers last week. The smallest had only three petals because her scissors had jammed.

Just as everyone settled down, the stage lamp flickered and went out. Mr Ilyas tried the switch twice. Nothing happened.

The ceiling lights still worked, but they showed the hands above the puppets. Besides, under those lights the blue netting that made the sea looked like a dusty rag.

‘I’ve got a torch,’ someone said.

The beam made a hard white circle. Now the octopus looked like an angry glove.

Mila felt the soft bundle in her pocket. She went to Grandma and showed her one shining corner.

‘Could we?’

Grandma looked behind the curtain. ‘As long as Ilyas doesn’t nail it to anything.’

They draped the cloth over a smooth wooden rail behind the blue netting. They didn’t cut it or stick it down. Its light shone through the thin fabric and the little sea began to glow. It was as if something deep beneath the water were breathing quietly.

Mr Ilyas raised the fisherman. His painted eyes no longer seemed crooked, but worried. The children shuffled closer.

Mila sat at the back. She knew exactly when the boot would appear, yet she laughed all the same. The octopus wanted to buy it to store eight socks inside. ‘Those flowers will have to go,’ he grumbled.

When the play ended, the children clapped so hard that Mr Ilyas brought the octopus out for another bow. On that second bow, the little wire loop on the puppet’s head caught a thread in the cloth.

There was no ripping sound. That was the worst part: at first, nothing seemed wrong.

Then Ilyas lowered the puppet and the cloth followed it. A small dark dimple appeared in the moonlight. Silver threads gathered tightly around it.

‘I’ll get the scissors,’ he said.

‘Don’t cut it!’ Mila was already beside him.