The Swan by Roald Dahl

I believe I can fly. I believe I can touch the sky.

It’s a Roald Dahl weekend extravaganza here at Literature Frenzy, and we’re kicking things off with The Swan, a short story that takes the old adage “boys will be boys” and cranks it up to a level that’s quite terrifying. This isn’t your average playground squabble or name-calling behind the bike shed. Nope. The Swan plunges us headfirst into the dark, murky waters of cruelty, cowardice, and the kind of unchecked nastiness that makes your blood boil.

Dahl paints a crystal-clear moral picture, leaving no room for ambiguity: there is good vs. evil, and in this case, evil goes by the names of Ernie and Raymond. These two bullies are full-blown teenage tyrants—or as their victim Peter calls them, "hooligans." At the beginning of the story, we are offered a glimpse into Ernie's home life with a cantakerous father who is possibly abusive. The decision to buy his psychlogicaly disturbed kid a gun for his birthday is the epitome of bad parenting. Then there's little Peter. He's the shy, smart kid in class who’s enjoying a nice day in the woods watching birds before the two hooligans descend upon him, turning his life into a complete nightmare.

If Dahl intended for us to feel seething resentment toward these pint-sized sociopaths, then boy oh boy, did he succeed with flying, fuming colors. Every word and action they take is a simmering indictment of cruelty and our sympathy for Peter grows with each new torment he endures. He is admirable, not because he fights back with fists, but because he is a survivor. He endures. In a world where bullies seem to hold all the power, that kind of resistance is its own form of triumph.

But here’s where things get even more interesting and a whole lot darker. Spoiler alert: there is no justice. One of the most unsettling elements of this story is that the bad guys don’t really get what’s coming to them. There’s no dramatic moment where the authorities swoop in or Peter cleverly finds a way to enact revenge against his tormentors. No, Dahl plays it more like real life: sometimes the bullies get away with committing heinous crimes and evil wins. Sometimes beautiful swans are brutally murdered for sport and butchered by a couple of sociopaths. Life can be cruel that way and the world moves on without blinking an eye.

Perhaps that’s the cautionary tale here. Dahl seems to be saying, “Yes, evil exists. Yes, it’s ugly and cruel and unfair. And no, it doesn’t always get punished.” But in the midst of all that darkness, Peter’s resilience becomes a kind of moral anchor. He survives not because the world saves him, but because he refuses to break entirely. In that sense, The Swan isn't just a story about a kid who gets bullied; rather, it's a brutal, cynical depiction of childhood innocence being snuffed out by pure evil. It’s a harsh reminder that cruelty doesn’t always come with consequences, and that goodness, no matter how steadfast, doesn’t guarantee protection. The story forces the reader to sit with the discomfort and recognize the injustices happening all around. If the world won’t protect the Peters among us, then who will? Dahl's twisted and sinister tale is likely to leave you both enraged and awestruck.