I
The day my journey took a whole new
direction, I was swimming a little deeper than I usually do. I kept wondering
how it was that I still had oxygen in the tanks. While it was true that I had
no clue as to how much time I had spent drifting in the ocean, it sure felt
like over a couple of weeks. Being wet now just felt like the natural state of
my body; I had been wearing the same clothes, a red plaid shirt whose color had
been gradually fading because of the saltiness of the ocean; a pair of old
jeans with empty pockets, save for a now useless headset and a wallet with some
ID and a picture.
There was nothing special about that
day, as far as I was concerned. I was looking for some fish that looked edible
or at least not too disgusting – not that I could be picky anymore. As I
recall, I used to be quite the finicky man, back in my other life. I would not
even eat chicken from the bone or anything that looked too much like what it
was when it was alive. I wonder what my friends would have thought, seeing me
biting the flesh of a half-alive fish to keep myself from starving.
It had been raining the night
before, though of course it was nothing like those storms I used to admire as a
child. My little boat would be tossed around riding the waves like a leaf
carried by the mischievous winds of fall. You would think I hated the storms
now, but that is because you have never been stranded in the middle of the
ocean – rain means water. And water is life. It’s one of those ‘ironic’ things
in life, being surrounded by the one thing that could keep you alive and yet,
being unable to drink it.
Another big perk of storms is that
they make the ocean quite tame the next day. When there is nothing but water as
far as the eye can see, it is nice to be able to dive into it to admire the
beauty underneath. The sun peeking through the surface, making the fish glitter
and shine. The odd creatures of the sea, thankfully more afraid of me than I
had been of them, even the occasional whale. In fact, up until that day, I had
always thought whales to be more solitary animals, merrily gliding through the
current.
I had never seen a shark, though.
As I was swimming that day, after
catching a banner-fish (I was no marine biologist, so I made up names for the
fish as I saw fit), I caught a glimpse of a whale. A rather small one. The sun
was still out but I was deep enough that the light had begun to be scarce. The
creature started towards me, which was not usual behavior for the whales I had
encountered before. I was curious… Too much to react instantly. That was, of
course, until I saw its teeth.
I swam quickly to the side and
barely avoided the creature head-butting me; for some reason, it didn’t feel
like it was trying to bite me, but rather just crash into me. Either way, I
wasn’t about to find out, curiosity kills more than cats. I turned away from
the animal I assumed was a shark with the intention of swimming to the surface
as fast as I could. But, had it been that easy, I would not have much of a
story to tell.
Part 2: http://awolfamongbears.blogspot.com/2013/03/stranded-part-2.html
You can read the prologue here: http://awolfamongbears.blogspot.com/2013/03/stranded-short-story.html
Very well written, loved it!
ReplyDelete