Ever since he was young, my son and I found solace among shore and coast, shallows which boast score of bright fish and sand. We with many choose to relax about the waves, the movement so consoling to a mother and son alike.
A set of boats I’ve never seen are strewn through the curl of twirled waves behind us. From them, with no warning, a harsh sound breaks the morning. In horror, son and I with the crowd swim away, hoping to break loose from a heinous array of dismay as those we know scream in throe.
I fear we will not reach the sand, and I draw my son close as he cries – sounds that sear deaf ears in futility. Before long, spears loose left and right and our friends, our family, are being killed and dragged and taken away.
The water is red now. I have lost sight of my son. Is he alive still? Has he been hoisted onto the boats that surround us? Do these killers not know how similar we really are?
Because I am dolphin, they will not hear or understand me before I die. Will anyone?