Episode

The Emerald

Podcast
I Believe
Published
Jan 20, 2026
Duration seconds
1753
Processing state
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Canonical source
https://joelkdouglas.substack.com/p/the-emerald
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https://api.substack.com/feed/podcast/184622937/882ab2446fa043ef5a6e35f4cc0a7081.mp3
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/v1/public/podcasts/i-believe-6610011/episodes/the-emerald
Markdown
/podcast/i-believe-6610011/the-emerald.md

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Summary

There is the Leviathan.He moves in the deep,in the playground of God. He waits for his foodin its season. God asks,Can you draw him out with a fishhook?Put a cord through his nose?Make a covenant with him? The Zippo. He ran his thumb across the worn edges. Took it out of his pocket. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Act I. The Affair Copenhagen, spring 1945, three weeks after the Germans left. You could still smell it. Smoke, petrol, something sour underneath. The city was learning how to breathe again. Nobody knew what to do with their hands. She was twenty-three. Blonde. Thin in a way that made people look away. She’d spent four years learning to be invisible. How to walk past soldiers without being seen. To keep her face empty. Make herself small enough to survive. He was American. A sergeant from Kansas. People thought all of Kansas was flat, but not where he was from. Huge houses on the river bluffs, oak trees. Nearly every year, someone drowned. They jumped off the bridge, knowing they could swim out of the great river. They could not. He had a wide smile and big hands and he talked too loud for any room he was in. They met in “Glasshall in Tivoli.” A Danish jazz club. Defiant of German rule to the end. Jazz was Allied music. The Nazis despised it. She was drinking alone. She knew she shouldn’t, but the Germans were gone, and she didn’t feel afraid. He sat down across from her without asking. “You speak English?” “A little.” “More than a little, I think.” She didn’t smile. But she didn’t leave. She touched her hair. By June, the city remembered what it was. The canals turned silver in the long light. Sun sat on the water like a thin sheet of metal. The sun only pretended to set, hovering just below the horizon, turning the sky the color of bruised peaches over sla…