Whale

by Anthony Campbell © 2002

It was cold and dark at these depths, but his massive body was rising rapidly and the water was beginning to show some color. He had gone deep and been rewarded for it. The ocean slipped by him and its temperature rose, comforting, after the stress of the dive. It was not the cold but the extreme pressure that was bothering him. It never used to. He was getting old. His stomach full and his mind relaxed he started to feel the presence of his last mate.

She was sparkling as always and her joy seeped into him. It was not that long ago that orcas had taken her body after a difficult birth. The ocean had turned red that day. Obviously, that bad time did not bother her now. With an aura of mischief she began to communicate to him the things she had been doing. Communicating was something she did well and loved to do. He enjoyed sharing her experiences, yet through the bombardment was able to sense some of the others that were with her.

One of her companions wanted to go and explore, and was trying to recruit some company for the trip. He pitched the expedition with great enthusiasm. Two seemed interested and would probably go. Where they were going and how long they would be gone would never be discussed. Others of the group were playing a new game. The rules of which were still evolving. Some were experiencing him and apparently enjoying it.

His dive was nearing its end. The water was full of sunlight. His body ached for the surface and the refreshment it would bring. He broke through in a roar of spray, water flying everywhere above a once calm sea. While he sucked in the oxygen rich air he spotted a boat near the horizon. As he reentered the ocean he thought, how small they are and how little they know.

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