AOTW #1 - Under the Sea

														AOTW #1 - Under the Sea
															User - Jeremy
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				      								   Plastic; why, oh why?

Everything seemed normal; everything was normal. Except for when it wasn’t. Pops and I’s monthly visit to the Great Mercy Sea was a convention. I was expecting raucous cries of gulls and whiffs of pelagic aromas. But, what I didn’t expect, was this; what I am now.

We were normal. Human.

But, everything has changed and I write this to you, reader, as I lay ashore the sizzling sand, powerless to this unknown material, grappling my neck like a madman shaking a wilted geranium. I am no longer human, believe it or not. My extended size and weight pull me down, forcing the sun's rays to laminate my aquatic rubbery skin.

Of course, given my current circumstances, if you are reading this, you are hearing the cries of my thoughts rather than a written story asking for forgiveness. But, do forgive me...

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Even before my homo sapien times, I was quite an admirer of the depths of the oceans; my mind would swim and cast, grappling onto any sort of knowledge I could gain. I was hungry. I wanted more. But now, as I have realised the detriment of the actions of humans, I insist on repelling and deploying all I have learnt back to where it came from; I envy this species, yet watch from down below powerlessly like a psychiatric patient etherized upon a table.

But now, as a cetacea, commonly known as a whale, - a vast change in form some might say -, my perspective on the ocean has changed. Although I still roam the seas, engulfing tonnes of fish, both small and large, from salmon to swordfish, I feel a change. I know there is. The eternal whisperings throughout the seemingly never-ending waves render me numb; the build-up of algae is no match for the pollution within our territories. I used to scatter throughout the waters, lurking deep below, but now I struggle to see past the coral ahead.

I often contemplate the thoughts of Aeolus and Poseidon, Gods of the wind and sea; what are they to say about such tragedies? Depleting oxygen, poisonous synthetics and a whole lot of courage from above was all it took. We know the ocean-born algae and the breeze from up North to be our ventilators, but are now dusty motors begging for air; powerless against this build of plastic.

The languorous flows of the tides and vaporous exhaling of mist seep through my second layer of skin, reminding me of who I am and of who I once was. I hold no responsibility for the actions of my counterparts, for my mythological transformation was one I never imagined.

Before, the metronomic waves would gurgle, flowering riparian-blue reflections, sending them to the sky. The palpitating pulse of the ocean life was clear, as the exuberant sea harnessed its majesty. Many charms and chants of the sea would beguile me; harmonies and hummings ingrained into the very fabric of what we once were; ocean life living in harmony.

But now, it's different. It feels different and we are not to blame for the actions of humans that have annihilated our very existence, deeming us as worthless as a lab rat. It has now come to a time that my thoughts tend to overlap, manifesting this calamity as humorous; who would’ve thought that my psychotic tendencies would be catalysed by such idiotic actions?

Everything has changed. From the outré rhythm of crackling crevasses deep below to the raspy rumbling discharged by the enraged waters. Even the wind has died down with the bubbling sea leaving us shivering for comfort; indeed, even as an animal designed to be immune to something as cold as a sibyl’s soul and the electric bitterness of the water, I shiver. Piled skeletons of ocean life now form pyramids like those in ancient Egypt, according to my ancestors the megalodons. My eyes tighten, twitching to the echoes from up above, mimicking the sound of damp Christmas crackers; plastic discharge.

Reader, midnight has come, dark-cloaked like a procuress, sending acidic outbursts of sorrow throughout my limbs. Now, lying lifelessly and depleted like a wilting flower, I have succumbed to the ring of plastic grasping my neck like a lioness carrying her cub; a match I have lost, for the sea has neither meaning nor pity.

Plastic; why, oh why?