Collision

Swimming. Gasping. Trapped.

I should have listened. 

I'm going to die.

Curiosity killed the ray. 

I begin formulating a speech in my head. "Go to the Mariana Trench, you humans. How would you feel if you were me?" I yell to an invisible audience. 

Scratch that. Those humans wouldn't be stupid enough to see how far they could swim without ramming into land. 

Why on earth had I come here? Why? As I thrashed and span around, my head got entangled in a plastic bag. Oh, Jasper, why hadn't I followed you when we were fleeing from the fishing boat? 

Toothed Barnabas ElHadigo, you are a disobedient manta ray. 

Desperate to comfort myself, I grasped onto the last strands of reconciliation I had. I wasn't the only adventurer. All around me, predator and prey alike were struggling for their lives. 

I hate humans. Sorry, I detest them. Polluting the world and driving round like they own the place, throwing waste overboard whenever the urge grabs them. Their hearts are so hard, they don't care if young sea horses like the one below me grow up thinking that a Q-tip is the right thing to grab onto. 

In all my fury, I don't hear the motor until it's too late. A boat rushes up on me. "This is it", I groan. Then I stop. The boat had stopped. Oh no, no. A human was entering the water. This was bad news. As if a long death in the hold of a plastic bag wasn't enough, now they had to come and put their grimy bodies in the water beside us. 

Wait. 

They're gathering the rubbish. 

They're putting it in the boat. 

They're entangling the fish. 

They're helping us. 

I watch, flabbergasted, as the Q-tip is gently prised from the grasp of the sea horse beneath me. Then they turn to me. The plastic bag, which was becoming tighter every second, is suddenly gone. 

I suddenly understand. 

These humans aren't the ones who were trying to kill us. These are the good guys. The real bad guys, the people I never see, are the creatures sitting at home on their couches consuming bottle after bottle of plastic water. The people buying all their food in plastic bags. The people throwing away straws after only one use. 

The people who don't do anything. 

They are the enemies. 

Not the humans whose boat is now overflowing with plastic. Not the humans who have set me free to go home to my fever. 

Oh.

My fever. 

They're going to be so worried. 

Heart racing, consuming all my thoughts, I quickly turn around and head back. All thoughts of my near-death encounter fly from my mind as I try not to consider what would have become of my fever, especially my mother, without me to care for them. 

When I eventually swim into the familiar waters of my fever's territory, I can't help but feel indebted towards the humans who tried so hard to free the planet from plastic.