Learn English by audiobook or video with Cullen at eattmag.com

Learn English by audiobook or video with Cullen at eattmag.com

When he looked up the hill, he could see a windy old road that climbed up slowly into the distance, meandering its way up towards what looked like a large cluster of trees, almost a forest in a way. He wondered why there wasn't a lighthouse here. The sea was blowing rough enough, and he knew this as the Shipwreck Coast.  He had heard the stories. Surely there would have been a place for one up here somewhere. And then he turned towards the right, and there it was, a lighthouse perched high on top of the hill. It wasn't like anything he had seen before. It was older somehow, abandoned as...

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  Pablo climbed carefully up the steps, his feet searching for the worn holes in the rocks. The stone was cold beneath his skin, his feet almost wrapped around each rock as he slowly made his way to the top, every now and then brushing against a sharp shell. He moved slowly, feeling each step, grabbing the next rock as he finally reached the top. And there at the top, the ghost of an old platform. The wood was faded by the sun, it had been made of old railway sleepers that had been bound together very carefully, somehow the whole structure hanging there. On the right hand side a large...

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Pablo could see the clouds very clearly, in the pool in the rocks and then he could see a strange shape, like a straight shape reflecting from the clouds. He looked up to the sky, and he couldn't see these straight shapes. Strange he thought maybe it was a beam from an old hut on top of the rocks  Maybe not  The mast of an old ship that has been smashed against the rocks, where the sailors had scrambled up the rocks like him on this Shipwreck Coast     He looked back into the pond and still saw the straight shape. And he turned around to his left. And he could see...

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His heart was beating so deeply. He felt like a dog. He was panting and couldn't catch his breath. Trying to slow down. Tried to slow down. He couldn't. His mind was racing, his heart was beating, his thoughts were spinning. He looked down and saw a small crab sitting in a pool, a tiny pool in the rocks. He closed and opened his eyes. He would focus on the crab. He tried to slow his breath down with a slow box breath. Breathing in, 1-2-3-4. Holding his breath, 1-2-3. Releasing his breath, 1-2-3-4. Use the little crab. He looked at the crab and made it a focus point while he began to slow his...

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He was close to the rocks, and he could see the surface. The light from the surface changed quickly up and down as the waves were rising quickly up against the rocks. And then he saw it. The rope. Then again the rope appeared at this time, for some reason. He reached out and grabbed it. He could feel coral wrapped around the rope. He pulled tight, and the rope stopped moving. It stayed taut. It was tight. It was attached to something; he didn't know what. He pulled on the rope, and he used it to pull himself up out of the water as he smashed into the rocks, bruised the side of his arm, and...

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Pablo moved away from the shark as quickly and quietly as he could. He knew he needed to stay calm. He understood that he shouldn't make any sudden movements. No frantic paddling. He also knew his other option was to maximize his size, that if the shark was passing by, if he stayed vertical and looked as large as possible. But he was not thinking of that just right now. And he knew he needed to keep watching it, and if the shark turned towards him, he would have to face it. He needed to keep watching, always watching it. And if it moved, rotate his body to stay facing it. But at this time, he...

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Something like a rope passed him again. It was not tied to anything. It was floating. It moved slowly, back and forward, like seaweed. Pablo watched it for a moment. It did not feel dangerous. He reached out and pushed the rope away from his body. He pushed it to the side so he could start to go up. His breath was running out. His chest felt tight. He needed to go back to the surface. Then he saw more of it. Not all at once. At first, it was only a shape. A grey shape moving in the water. It did not look like a rope anymore. It looked like skin. That was when he understood. It was a shark. He...

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Pablo had only learned to swim recently. He was in his early twenties. It took him a long time. He worked full time. He also had a part-time job. That day, he swam out from the shore and dived down. He wanted to see the rocks he had heard about under the water. He did not know how deep the ocean was there. Even close to land, it could be very deep. He felt like he was about five meters down. He did not look up at the surface. Something touched the back of his leg. It frightened him, but he kept going. The seaweed was large. It felt thick, like kelp. It brushed past the tattoo on his leg. He...

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Perhaps he thought when he got home he could hang his wooden spoons up, although at the moment they were sitting in a great big blue jar—which seemed to be the right place, as then he could just grab them beside the air fryer, you know, that kind of thing, when he was cooking on the run. This was making him hungry now, thinking about all these wooden spoons and the boat made of wooden spoons. He was thinking about dinner. Maybe he could have some nice pasta with some garlic and some black pepper, vegetables, and maybe some olives. He might be able to put some tuna in there too, and he may...

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After his swim, Pablo decided that he was going to sit down and do some writing. And when he sat down, he suddenly remembered that he had a dream the other night about a boat, and the boat was made from wooden spoons. Why would a boat be made of wooden spoons? That was an interesting idea. They must have been all glued together because the boat was bobbing along quite well in the water, and there was a small crew of sailors sitting in the boat having a lively chat. What were they talking about? He wondered. He hadn't remembered that part of the dream. Was the discussion about coming to land or...