I am swimming in the ocean, not far from my mother. She and my aunts are chattering to each other, only half paying attention to me, the youngest of the pod. I espy something shiny in the corner of my eye. Last time I caught something shiny, it turned out to be a very tasty fish. I swim closer, eager for a snack. The shiny fish does not sense my presence. It barely moves, simply swaying in the water with the waves.
As I approach it, I see that it is a very oddly shaped fish, if it is indeed one. I cannot see the fins or the eyes of this odd creature. It has a very long, wide tail that fans out a little behind it. For reasons I am unable to determine, the humongous tail of this unidentifiable creature appears to have empty spaces of nothingness. I swim ever closer, and clamp down on the object with my teeth, for now it is questionable whether the entity before me actually contains life. The object does not struggle at my bite, and has a curious taste I have never experienced before. I pull on the object to take it back to the pod with me. The object comes grudgingly, getting increasingly harder to pull. Eventually, it comes to a halt, and I am unable to up it farther.
Now, I become fully aware that the object’s tail is even larger than I first believed. It was now entirely spread out, in a huge, sting-ray-like blanket around me. Perhaps it is this tail that is keeping the object from giving into my will. Perhaps if I let the tail free, the object will be in my control once again. I am proud of this curious catch, and unwilling to give it up. I maneuver myself so that I can get a hold of the tail. I begin swimming slowly towards my pod, unaware once more of the huge tail swirling menacingly around me. My mother and aunts suddenly become aware of my absence. They see me with the creature and swim hurriedly towards me, calling out warnings. I grow excited, happy to show my discovery. I try to swim faster, but am surprised and dismayed when I discover I cannot move at all.
Panic begins to creep into me. I am entangled in the enormous tail of the small, shiny object. The more I struggle, the harder it is to move. The panic settles in veritably. I call out helplessly to my mother and my aunts. They bite at the monstrous tail, but to no avail. One aunt nearly gets caught herself. Another aunt, crazed in a biting frenzy, gets a little too close, and her teeth graze my skin. I cry out in pain
Suddenly I am aware that I am being pulled away from my family. The large-tailed creature is swimming away backwards! Confusion grows with the panic in me. I hear an unfamiliar, loud growling sound. The creature swims faster. I begin to doubt the shiny portion of the object really was the front of it. My aunts, first swimming furiously after me, give up and stop, only staring helplessly at my rapidly disappearing figure. My mother follows a little longer, but eventually gives up and heads back to the pod. And so, I am hurtling tail-first to an unknown place. The growling noise gets closer, and the large-tailed creature begins to slow. For a while, I am at a near stand-still, and use that opportunity to furiously struggle to free my flippers. It doesn’t work, and soon I am pulled backwards again. This time, the movement is jerky and slow.
I feel myself being pulled up as well as backwards. I grab a hold of the shiny object, and bit down hard. Even if it is not the head of the creature, perhaps pain will slow it down. Nothing happens. At this time, I begin to have the urge to resurface for air. My blowhole threatens to open. I have now stopped moving backwards and am being pulled upwards at an increasingly faster pace. I can see the sunlight above me, coming closer and closer.
Finally! Air. I try to leap with joy of being able to take a breath, but the tail of the evil creature hinders my movement, and I land back down with a clunky splash. The landing is mangled by both the restraining tail and the fact that I am yanked roughly while in the air. After the shaky landing, I am dragged through the water into a miniature cave with sharp corners. The cave is made of four startlingly straight platforms, and is very long. I am pushed into the cave, head first. The cave walls surround me tightly, and I cannot turn around, though I can see through the walls. I hear a sound, and realize that I am now in an enclosed area. The closed cave moves upward out of the water. I see a large wall to the left. I move towards the wall, and go over it. The cave is lowered, and I am put into a tiny pool of water only a little larger than the cave. Curious creatures approach me. They have neither flippers nor tails. They all have different colored skin that flaps around with the wind. They have long hair on their heads, and the speak to each other in low, indistinguishable sounds. I realize that these are humans, godlike creatures that my mother often told stories about. I didn’t know that these creatures existed. A small one moves towards me and puts her flippers – no, hands – on the edge of the pool. She makes odd sounds that I don’t understand. She walks around to the side of the pool and reaches out to caress my back. A taller one comes up behind her. The two speak in their foreign tongue, the taller one gesturing towards me, to the boat, to the ocean. I wonder what they are discussing, and hope that I am able to get back to my pod. I feel as though I should be panicking, but for some reason I feel completely calm. I feel large, rough human hands on my back. Suddenly my flippers and fins are free from the grasp of the large-tailed creature. With the absence of the large-tailed creature pressing on me, I become aware that I have myriad tiny incisions all over my skin from large-tailed creature. I see the human who had taken away the large-tailed creature walking in front of me, holding it in his arms. It does not try to attack him. I am sure now that the large-tailed creature is not a creature at all, but rather an object that I had been unfortunate enough to get caught in. I remember my mother telling stories about these dangerous objects. They had been the death of many a dolphin. Perhaps I was lucky, then, to be rescued by these fin-less humans.
The small one approaches me once more, this time holding a basket in her hand. She puts something on her hands, and pets my back again, only this time she touches only the cuts. Her touch makes them sting, but I am given the feeling that she is trying to help. I stay as still as I can, and only wince a couple of times. The small human makes her way around me, rubbing each cut in turn. I close my eyes and allow myself to enjoy her touch, ignoring the slight sting that accompanies it.
I stay in the care of the humans until dusk. From the tiny pool, I watch as the sun sets. The beautiful colors painted in the sky make me homesick for my pod. We would often frolic in the water at this time, jumping and spinning and putting on a show to match the magnificent sky. Here, I am barely able to move. I long for my mother, my cousins, and even my chattering aunts.
The little girl comes to me again, this time empty-handed. She leans over the railing of the pool, her large green-blue eyes looking into my black ones. She speaks to me, and though I cannot understand her exact words, I know what she is trying to say. Then, as if by magic, her language seems to melt into mine.
You were caught in a fishing-net, she says. We had to put you in that box to help you. I’m sorry we had to keep you enclosed all that time, but it was a necessity. Otherwise you would have been stuck in that net for a very, very long time. Now it’s almost time for you to return to your family. I hope you remember us, little dolphin.
I try to tell her that I hear her, that I understand her words. For a moment, I think I see a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. When I am put into the wooden box, I do not struggle. I allow myself to be transported into the air, over the side of the wall, and back into the welcoming ocean water. Not too far ahead, I spot my pod. My mother calls excitedly to me, surprised and grateful to see that I am still alive and well. The wooden bars lift, and I am able to glide gracefully out of the box. The water is tinted red, orange from the still-present sun set. I jump up out of the water and twirl in the air, pausing for a second at the highest point to make eye contact with the small human.
I’ll never forget you, I tell her. With a splash, I land in the water again, only to leap into the air again. I wave a last good bye to the humans who helped me before powering through the water, towards the sunset and my waiting family.
