Farewell Summer ~ Ray Bradbury - Marimarister

―What is that stuff in there?‖ asked Tom.
―Gosh knows. Look close.‖
Their eyes moved along, darted and stayed, stayed and darted, fastened and examined
until their noses dilated and their mouths gaped.
―What‘s that, Doug? And that? And that one there?‖
―How do I know? Move!‖ Doug went back to the beginning of the row and crouched
down in front of the first jar so his eyes were level with whatever was inside it.
The big bright glass jar held what looked like a giant cold gray oyster. Doug peered at it,
mumbled something to himself, then stood up and moved on. The boys followed.
Suspended within the liquid in the next jar was something that looked like a bit of
translucent seaweed or, no, more like a seahorse, a miniature sea-horse, sure!
And the glass jar after that held something that resembled a skinned rabbit or a raw cat
with its fur shucked, getting bigger . ..
The boys‘ eyes moved, darted, stayed, flicked back to examine the first, second, third,
fourth jars again.
―What‘s in this one, Doug?‖
Five, six, seven.
―Look!‖
They all looked and it might have been another animal, a squirrel or a monkey—sure, a
monkey—but with transparent skin and a strange sorrowful expression.
Eight, nine, ten, eleven—the jars were numbered but had no names. There was nothing to
hint at what the boys were looking at, what it was that froze their veins and iced their blood.
Until at last, at the far end of the row, near the exit sign, they reached the last jar and all leaned
toward it and blinked.
―That can’t be!‖
―Naw.‖
―It is," gasped Douglas. ―A baby!‖
―What‘s it doing in there?‖