You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
The baby shark.
“Don’t go too far away, Sammy,” Momma shark signals from a bed of sea weed on the Gulf floor.
“I won’t momma,” the little sharks giggles.
A dozen bubbles exit his nose.
The baby Lemon shark lurches for the rising air bubbles, popping them with his tiny teeth.
He smiles a toothy grin, sniffing the bottom of the gulf, poking the sand like a scaly explorer.
Sammy is 18 inches long. He weighs 10 pounds. His teeth are tiny, but sharp. His eyes clear and ready for life.
Sammy may grow into a predatory force one day, but on this evening, he is a junior member of the food chain.
Sammy is 15 feet under the surface. His world is tranquil, liquid warm, easy to move.
He looks up and sees a golden light shimmering on the surface.
What’s up there? he thinks.
Sammy swims forward, letting the warm Gulf water filter through his gills.
He swims past a sea weed formation out of the sight of momma.
Sammy looks back. He can’t see his home, but he is not concerned.
The little shark is happy, a sea explorer, sniffing sea shells along the sandy floor.
Again the light bouncing off the surface catches his shark eye.
Sammy begins to rise toward the surface. It’s easy to float on the warm Gulf current.
“Better not,” An old star fish says from the depths.
Sammy stops his slow ascent. The words from the shadow are sharp and biting.
He circles back.
He sees the tiny star fish stuck to a rock.
“Mind your momma little shark.”
“I am.”
“You’re a fish. There’s nothing for you at the surface but trouble. Stay down here where it’s safe.”
“I will.”
Sammy moves past the star fish, nosing shells and playing with shrimp on the sandy bottom.
Just then Sammy’s nostrils pick up the unmistakable scent of meat.
The smell triggers a primordial dinner bell in his brain the little shark can’t ignore.
The smell is pungent, like a sea food salad bar full.
Sammy’s brain is ringing like an alarm bell. His mouth waters and his little teeth gnash against each other. His primal need is to locate the smell.
Sammy scurries along the sandy bottom sniffing, picking up the scent like an aquatic blood hound.
There next to a clump of seaweed, Sammy locates the meaty morsel.
The little shark eyes the piece of squid and makes himself like a stealthy torpedo.
Sammy swoops through the water, his mouth slightly open.
He zeroes in on the chunk of meat and pounces.
BANG.
The meaty morsel is in his mouth. The taste of sweet squid fills his shark pallet.
The little shark is pleased with his hunting experience.
He turns to head back to momma, to show her what he has found.
Suddenly there is a burning in his lip.
He tries to turn his shark head, but he cannot.
He is held by an invisible force that directs him away.
“What’s going on?” Sammy cries.
He tries to spit out the tasty squid, but he cannot.
His lip is burning, tugging at him, pulling him toward the surface.
“Momma,” the shark cries.
Sammy fights the current, fights the invisible force that is now pulling him toward the shore.
Sammy is panicked and tries to break free, but his little form is not strong enough to fight what ever has hold of him.
Through shark tears welling in his eyes, Sammy sees the light above the waves. It is growing more intense as he drawn forward by unexplainable forces.
Sammy thinks of Mr. Starfishes words. “Stay away from the surface. Nothing good for you there.”
Sammy tries to spit the chunk of squid from his lip, but it is stuck, burning, pulling him forward.
Sammy is tired, frightened, the light is growing closer.
“Momma,” he cries above the growing sound of the surf.
Sammy is a predator, but he is young. He will one day weigh a hundred pounds or more, but today he is a runt. He is tired and scared and he cannot fight the invisible pain in his lip that pulls him to the shore.
Sammy breaks the surface. The light is blinding, the air foreign and frightening.
Through the rolling surf, Sammy sees the form of a creature standing in ankle-deep surf.
The creature is holding a bright yellow stick, more colorful than any coral under the sea.
Sammy feels the hot ball of light on his smooth skin. It burns.
“Momma,” the little shark cries.
It’s too late.
The line tightens and the pull on the hook lodged through his lip is pronounced.
Sammy tries to turn, but he is exhausted. The force too much, the pain too intense.
“Why didn’t I listen to momma,” he cries.
Sammy sees two forms on the beach. Suddenly he is lifted out of the ocean, into the air. It is uncomfortable, it is death.
The little shark feels darkness over coming him.
He tries to breathe. There is nothing to drag through his gills. He feels himself suffocating, growing weak.
“Momma…”
His last breath is labored. The pain intense. The helplessness overwhelming.
Suddenly he is on the sand on his side. The creature is pressing his stomach, squeezing him.
There is a sharp pain in his mouth as the metallic, barbed hook is ripped free.
Sammy closes his eyes. He is going to sleep.
He strains for a breath. There is nothing.
He begins to dream as the giant orange light fills his vision.
Suddenly the form tosses him toward the sea. Sammy is tumbling, floating, flying toward the waves.
SPLASH!
His smooth shark body hits the water and air rushes into his gills.
Sammy opens his eyes. His mind fills with thoughts of escape. Swim. Swim. Swim down, away from the forms on the beach, away from the orange light.
Sammy is suddenly filled with life. He is swimming as fast as his little shark body will allow.
He zips by mr. Star Fish.
He turns the corner by the sea weed.
He swims to his momma’s fins.
“I love you momma,” he sniffs.
“I love you too Sammy,” his mother says not sure what has caused her little shark to be so upset.
She looks at the cut on his lip and a look of realization crosses her mind.
“Baby,” she says hugging her little boy. “I told you to never go to the surface.”
“I never will again momma. Never again!”
Sammy clings to his mother’s nurturing form.
Back on the shore, the sun is setting into the sea with a final gasp.
“You think the shark lived,” the young woman asks the fisherman.
“Yeah,” the fisherman says watching the sun disappear below the horizon. “I saw him fill with life as he entered the wave.”
The fisherman takes the piece of squid on his hook and throws it into the surf.
“But it was close. I don’t think he had another minute to spare.”
The woman smiles and hands the fisherman a beer.
The couple take one last look at the beach and begin heading up for the night.
Will the little shark grow into a monster? Will it ever come to shore? If it does, if it encounters a form with a bright yellow pole again, will it remember the fear? the act of kindness, the brush with death?
The gulf is full of stories, both above and below the waves.
Life’s Crazy™