Fin, Fight, Fighting

The Child could only see tips swimming toward her. They looked like dorsal fins.  They had been following her since the eagle brought her back to her lily pad, two weeks ago.

“Fighting friends are better than no friends at all…” She sang.

“Fighting friends are better than no––friends–­at––all­­–––.”

Exhausted and sleepy, she thought of The Prophet, Mr. Whale and her new friend, Mr. Eagle.

Prophet, you wouldn’t believe that I’ve learned how to handle the rope with the knots and use the hourglass, and an eagle saved me. I miss you, Prophet. Where are you?

She looked out on the ocean. The dorsal fins were getting closer.

That must be Mr. Whale. He’s brought a friend with him.

And she stood up and yelled loudly, “Hurry, Mr. Whale. I’m so glad to see you.”

Thinking that she was no longer alone, she did a tired dance on the lily pad and twirled herself almost onto the ocean.

Too bad, Mr. Eagle is not here.

As the dorsal fins got closer she commanded with glee, “Mr. Whale, show yourself!”

Two huge cartilages rose out of the water.

Oh no, sharks!  

“Be still, Child. Stay on your lily pad, be still,” A voice whispered from above.

The Child sat on her lily pad like a piece of sculpture as the sharks divided the water and swam by the lily pad on her right and left side.

Afterward,  the hot sunbeams forced her to move. Joints and muscles: stiff, her body: hungry and tired, she screamed, as from over her head, fish fell from the sky and hit her as they fell at her feet.

“Gaaaak, Gaaaak, wheeee, wheeee,” said Mr. Eagle from above, and he touched down on the lily pad.

Shalom,

Pat Garcia