Jonas & the Whale

Jonas & the Whale

Only black—reflecting the color of my soul.

I cry out, “Father, father! Why have you forsaken me?”

There is no reply.

The pressure all around me,

Contorts me as I flip down.

An imperceptible blot, huge and swift

Sharp agony ruptures through every sense.

Legs smitten in two

No noise bursts from my lungs

There is no air to escape.

The taste of metal, the smell of salt; a swirl.



Gasping, screaming—clawing at my surroundings.

Soft and mucus laden is its palate,

Tumbling down the colossal vessel.

Tighter and tighter the apparatus brings me.

Clenched through a sphincter of ungodly proportions.

A door; thrust through an oily cylinder—

Crawling, pulling my weight down the lubricated tunnel.

The walls are moving.

A contraction with each thrust of my nails.

Water floods the conduit.

Plummeting down a shaft,

I plash in a substance of torrid uniformity

I inhale.

No air recompenses me.

My lungs abraded with a thousand needles.

I squelch and gurgle on fire.



Liquefied in corrosive fluid.

Every fiber of my body screams out:


Where is my Nineveh?

Scott Cravens


Scott Cravens is a short story writer from Arkansas, and is based in Oklahoma where he teaches literature at the secondary level. Currently, he is a graduate student of writing at Johns Hopkins University. His work has been featured or is forthcoming in various publications: Ariel Chart International Literary Journal, CafeLit Magazine, The Periodical Forlorn, The Amethyst Review, and Danse Macabre


  1. My lungs abraded with a thousand needles.

    I squelch and gurgle on fire." My favorite lines in this fine write.

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