Stefano and the Seashell

A Flash Fiction

There was once a young boy named Stefano—so young he could barely stand on his own two feet. One warm summer evening, Mother took Stefano to the beach. Against her wishes, Stefano decided to go for a seaside stroll, all by himself.

“Stefano!” Mother cried. “Where are you going? Come back here!”

Stefano ignored Mother, wandering off, leaving her behind on their beach blanket, sipping her glass of wine. Off in the distance, where the sea and sky meet, the sun glowed a deep orange, warm and rich like the peel of a ripe grapefruit. Waves lapped against the shore. Stefano squinted as he tottered along. The crisp, briny ocean air stung Stefano’s nose with its salty scent. Seagulls flapped out of his path as he took step by tiny step.

Before long, Stefano's foot brushed against something smooth and sturdy. It was a large conch shell. Stefano plopped onto his diapered bottom and eagerly dug the shell out, captivated by its appearance. Like most conch shells, its hues of gold, brown, and white blended together, swirling as the shell curled into itself, spiraling to a pointed tip. After admiring the glossy, variegated outside, Stefano turned the shell over to examine its interior.

Quick as lightning, Stefano was sucked inside—and before he knew it, he began to slide. At first, Stefano was too shocked to react. Then he began to cry. No matter how hard Stefano tried, he could not stop slipping further along—the surface was too sleek, and he was not strong enough. Stefano slid, slid, slid, and cried, cried, cried. The light dimmed and slowly faded the deeper he went, until he was swallowed by darkness.

Stefano still slides and cries to this very day. That’s why, whenever you hold a conch shell to your ear, you seem to hear the sea. In reality, what you hear is the endless pleading of little urchins who didn’t listen to their mothers, spiraling into oblivion.

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“Waves.” Photograph by Micah J. Marrapodi, 2019.

Author’s Note: A Story About the Story

Just before embarking on our journey to Mexico, mi novia requested a bedtime story; this piece is an expansion of that tale. For our literary workshop course, my classmates and I were tasked with writing a piece of flash fiction—a complete narrative in 750 words or less. To my partner’s delight, I took that opportunity to develop the impromptu bedtime story into the piece above. Allegorical in nature, the story explores themes of neglect, ignorance, curiosity, and more.

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