The Ocean's View

What Does The Sea See?

I am the Ocean. The large body of water that makes up more than half of the planet. The sea itself, and the home to every little creature living inside.

Everyday I see something new.

Today I saw the light. Not just any light, but my favorite type of light. Underwater light. The kind of light the sun shines down that hits the water and seems to go through me, the ray illuminating the dark depths of my floor and turning my sand into sparkling diamonds.

Although I may notice something new everyday, there's always one thing that stays the same.

The boy.

I am as old as this Earth, yet, whenever I see him walking along my shore without shoes on, his face relaxed as if this is the only place he ever wants to be for the rest of his life, I feel so much younger.

The boy is a constant presence, spending almost everyday by my side, doing strange activities. He once took some sand from my beach and made some type of structure. He left soon after, and I tried with all my might to preserve it, but when the sun set and the moon came out,  I could do nothing for it, this thing he called a sand castle.

I continued my constant watch on him, and soon a year had passed. He hadn't changed much, save for a haircut. Compared to him, I felt like I had changed drastically.

All across my body I could feel itches when something unnatural was being dumped into me, and the constant urge to cough and get it out of me was consistently irritating.

Days went on, and my illness grew worse. The boys daily visits were soon the only thing I felt was keeping me sane. I was so angry at the world, for letting this happen to me. It seemed like the boy was the only one who cared.

The other day I noticed a sea horse swimming through me, his little tail wrapped around a Q-tip. On this day it was unsafe for any boats to sail, for my wrath was one of vengeance.

I was so swallowed in grief, I almost missed what happened to the boy.

He was walking along on my sand, feet in the shallows of me, when he noticed a group of low-life men, leaving beer cans and chip bags on my shore that we're swept into me by my own waves, contributing to my sickness.

He tried to peacefully tell them to stop, but they wouldn't have it.

Violence ensued, it turned ugly, and I almost didn't want to watch.

When the boy lay trembling on the sand, bloody and beaten, I let my waves wash over him, cleaning his cuts. I have never been more happy in my entire existence, to know that someone cared for my being.

The world may still be beautiful after all.

This is my submission for the #PlanetorPlastic contest. I may not be the best at going to rallies to save the whales, or donating that much money, but I can help in little things, like writing this story and recycling. So I totally encourage you all to write one of your own. Let's save the planet through the power of writing!

Lots of love,

Dangeroustoken