The Mirage
There wasn’t much left.
These days it was almost impossible to find food and many had grown thin and desperate. A strange world had evolved before their eyes, food-mirages. Well, now, they were plentiful.
But they had seen more than a few die after partaking. They’d seen a helter-skelter of dipping and diving - oh, yes, those wavering, translucent morsels looked inviting; tasty. They drifted away, looking for something more robust, less tantalizing, less attractive - they knew that death lurked there.
There was nothing else, though.
They drifted, on and on, growing weaker, growing fearful.
“Sharpie, what are we going to do?” He turned to his companion. A mournful expression creasing his brow.
“Something will come along. Just be patient. We always find something in the end, don’t we?”
“Our end is what I’m fretful about. It’s final, you know...the end?”
“Tut, tut…” Sharpie shot back at him, looking over his shoulder hoping to spot sustenance of any kind.
“It’s been two days. Do you know that?”
“Your mother must’ve dropped you on your head as a child. Do you know that?”
“This is no time to be smart, my friend. No time at all!”
Sharpie hung his head in shame, of course his friend was right. Nevertheless, he was so sanctimonious at times, that someone had to make fun of him. Without laughter they would have succumbed; been done for long, long ago.
Sharpie let out a jet of steam. He needed to remain calm, vigilant; he had to locate real food.
Out of the murky blue a shadow appeared over their heads. They looked up and it was triangular in shape, drifting languidly; in no hurry at all.
“What is it?” Sharpie bit his tongue, musing; amazed at its size.
“Good lord, it’s our lucky day. That’s a food basket. That’s what that is…”
“You mean…”
“Yes, I’ve seen it before, but at a distance. I’ve never managed to topple the likes of it myself, but I’ve seen it done. As much food as you can eat, my boy, a veritable feast, “ he ran his tongue over his gums, “but, it has to be carefully done, else the basket casts a larger, eerie, meshed shadow; I’ve seen that too. Once it happens the food is lost, it becomes another mirage. Death follows quickly in its talons.”
“Then…” Sharpie begged. His eyes alight with anticipation.
“Lift your back and follow me. Will you?”
The two whales rose on a tide, each hump a leverage, each flip of their tails’ a reckoning. The trawler spilled its contents into the ocean. Fish bait everywhere. The sea swam with the colors of a million darting, starving nippers. Iridescent scales illuminated the waves and for once the fishers and sailors went home empty handed having given their stolen bounty back to the sea.
Note
The seas are filled with translucent, wavering plastic that looks like food to fish. Sadly it kills them.