The Greatest White Shark

It washed in with the morning tide and was left behind on the pebbled shore. The Boy found it while searching for creatures to befriend. Just yesterday he helped welcome the starfish to its new home on the underbelly of the big grey rock—much to the disdain of the boulder’s oldest resident: Mr. Octopus, who did not appreciate the presence of a new neighbor no matter how many arms they had. However, The Boy didn’t make it to the big grey rock today. Instead he was halted by a perplexing discovery.

This new discovery was a ‘thing’. Therefore he didn’t know what to make of it. The Boy understood the animals that dwelled in the shallows, but he did not understand ‘things’ and he did not understand how this particular ‘thing’ had ended up on his beach.

It appeared as a rock at first glance. Upon further inspection this theory was rejected. It was spongy to the touch, not nearly brittle enough to be a coral, as he had briefly assumed. It was stark white, large yet lightly weighted, and had two flat surfaces—one above and one below. It’s edges were round, apart from the largest end which was jagged as if it had been cut from something larger. He had tried to return it to the ocean, as it did not belong to him or any of his friends, but it floated and the waves pushed it back and it continued to drift ashore. After his third attempt, The Boy saw Mrs. Gull flying in, and—knowing that she had traveled most of any of them—he called out to her: “Mrs. Gull, I don’t wish to trouble you, but do you happen to know what this ‘thing’ is, and how I might be rid of it.”

Mrs. Gull swooped down haughtily, “well, of course I do, Boy. Don’t you know what it is?” She landed atop the thing, patted it with her webbed feet, and continued her supercilious squawking, “This is a piece of the Greatest White Shark.” She informed him, before tilting her head to examine it closer, “Undoubtedly part of her left pectoral fin.”

Of course! The Boy could see it now, the thing must have been a fin—and a rather large one at that.

“We should return it to her.” The Boy suggested, to which Mrs. Gull cackled and cawed. “No, Boy. You should let it alone or better yet, take it with you.”

“But won’t she be wanting it back?” The Boy asked.

“Certainly.” Mrs. Gull confirmed, “In fact, she’ll be swimming in circles without it, but that is probably for the best.”

“Why would that be?”

“Because sharks are predators,” The bird explained, “and predators kill.”

The Boy was outraged, “Last week you attacked the entire Dungeoness family!” He reminded her. “Yet I would still return your wing to you should you lose it.”

“Indeed, you would. For you are kind and foolish. The crabs—however—would advise against it, as I am advising you now.”

The Boy shooed her from the ‘thing’ and returned it to the water, then hopped upon it himself. “I am going to find the Greatest White Shark and return the fin to her.”

“Very well,” said Mrs. Gull, as she hovered for a moment longer. “Should you find her—and should things then turn for the worst—don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And with that, the bird left, and a surge of water rushed into the bay to carry The Boy out to sea.

He floated past the big grey rock and the place where tidal waves break. Over the reef and shoals of fish then past the boats of men, until it seemed he was alone.

Then gradually, the waters stilled, and the winds changed. A chill cut through the air, and he could see dark clouds rising in the distance. He heard a quiet sloshing sound in the water, and began to look around for its source. Then beside him appeared a dorsal fin, belonging to a dark and shadowy figure. It glided around the ‘thing’—on which the boy was seated. Behind the dorsal The Boy could see a series of stripes that ran on for three yards until it reached the tail—revealing the stranger to be a Tiger Shark. The shark continued to circle, and when it was once again in front of The Boy, it propped its head on the side of the ‘thing’ and stared at him with empty onyx eyes.

“Hello, Tiger Shark,” greeted The Boy, “How are you?”

“I am as I am.” answered the Shark. “And how are you? Rather stranded by the looks of it.”

“Not at all. I was just passing through.”

The shark's black eyes blinked white. “I’m certain you would get to where you’re going much faster if you swam.”

“Perhaps,” answered The Boy, “but I have my reasons not to.”

“Do tell.” said the Tiger Shark, and he playfully flashed his teeth, knowing he was a prime deterrent.

But the boy smiled back and said: “I simply can not breathe in the water as you can. If I chose to swim I might tire and drown.”

“Perhaps.” answered the Tiger Shark as he slid off of the ‘thing’. He proceeded to swim around again, and inspected The Boy’s flimsy vessel, “and I suppose if you were to tip...” he asked, bumping into it. “No, that just won’t do.” observed the Tiger Shark. “One set of harsh waves and you’re as good as gone...Why don’t you leave this fin behind and I’ll take you where you need to go.”

“That is very kind of you, but I can not leave it.” answered The Boy. “I must return it to the Greatest White Shark.”

“What a shame.” was all the Tiger Shark said, before he disappeared beneath the surface.

He hadn’t been floating for too much longer when The Boy came across a sea turtle who was muttering to himself: “Now, which way would be best? If south is warmer but too south is colder and in the west-”

“Hello there, Turtle, where are you going today?” The Boy asked.

“I’m off to better sands,” the Turtle answered, “wherever that may be. Beaches are too crowded nowadays. I hardly ever get any peace at all, but that’s life I suppose. People here, people there, and sharks lurking everywhere else.”

“Speaking of sharks, I should tell you I met a Tiger Shark not ten minutes ago.” The Boy informed him.

“Oh, dear. Which direction were they headed.” The Turtle asked.

The Boy pointed, and the Turtle sighed.

“Very well. Thank you for warning.” He remarked before turning himself around to swim in the opposite direction. Yet he was rather slow, so The Boy continued the conversation.

“I don’t suppose you know where I can find the Greatest White Shark, do you?” The Boy asked.

“It just so happens that I do,” answered the Turtle. “She prowls the surface waters just east of here—north-east to be precise—that is where her shiver dwells.”

“Shiver?” The Boy inquired.

“Her offspring.” The Turtle clarified.

“You mean she has a family?” asked The Boy.

“Yes, she has many children and they grow by the thousands each day. Have you come to slay her?”

“No!” The Boy protested. “I could never bring myself to harm a living creature.”

“Well, then we’re in luck. She is not living nor is she a creature, but if given the opportunity her and her kin would doom us all.”

“What do you mean?” The Boy inquired.

“Go to her and you will see precisely what I mean. She is a monster of another kind: Manufactured. Though, fear not for yourself, I doubt she’d bring any harm to you and yours—at least not directly.” The Turtle stopped to look back at The Boy before continuing: “If you care for the rest of us—as you would lead me to believe—then please, do what you can to stop her.”

“What would I have to do?” asked The Boy.

“What you can, Boy. Do what you can.” Then the Turtle ducked it’s head beneath the surface and soon enough they parted ways.

The Boy drifted on until he reached the place where the Great Shark circled, but she was not as he had expected. Her body was made of styrofoam, her eyes were aluminum cans, and her teeth were shards of plastic when she smiled to greet him.

“Hello, Great Shark. I’m The Boy who lives on the beach. Is this yours?” He asked in reference to the ‘fin’.

The surge of the sea bobbed the patch of garbage up and down in a nodding motion, but she did not give a verbal response. The Boy was prepared to face the world’s deadliest sea monster, but what he saw instead looked broken. Fin or no fin, certainly she must have been incapable of any real harm. She had no jaws, no gills, no tail—and for that he pitied her.

“I’m sorry that you lost your fin. I’ve come to give it back to you, but first you have to promise…” He paused mid sentence. “Can you promise?” He inquired.

The cluster of trash bobbed up and down again so The Boy continued.

“Then promise me that you won’t hurt them.” He paddled himself closer. “I know you're not like the animals, so you don’t need to hurt anything, but all my friends seem to believe that your existence is the beginning of their extinction. But if you promised me, I would believe you.”

The pile rose and fell again, and The Boy felt this particular nod to be genuine and sincere. So, he smiled.

“Great! Um, here’s your fin.” The Boy said awkwardly, for he hadn’t accounted for the return trip. “I don’t suppose you could help me back to shore?”

The Great Shark nodded once more, this time from a wave so large, it sent them both floating back towards the beach. The Boy was not surprised to find the Turtle had moved along, and truly he was both grateful and terrified that a certain Tiger Shark could not be found. Yet something troubled him, though he could not figure out what. Until they came to the reef and he realized that he had not seen a single fish or any other creature for that matter. When they reached the big grey rock, The Boy knew the water was shallow enough for him, so he told the Great Shark to turn back, but the tides drew her in nearer until she crashed upon the shore. When the water rushed back out again, pieces of her were left behind, then at last he understood: her family. The remnants of litter that clung to the rocks and sand were her children. Only a small faction if the Turtle was correct. However, their mother floated back out of the bay. So, The Boy called a thank you, waved and wished her well. Then he turned from the sea and went home.

That night he could not sleep. Something bothered him still. So he rose with the sun to see his friends, but see them he could not. The sky was grey. The sea was blackened. His friends from the shallows were all missing. Every starfish, crab, clam, urchin, and nudibranch, was gone. Even Mr. Octopus had disappeared. Everything was gone. Except for the litter and rubbish. There was nothing else to believe, but the worst. Which was a truth as plain as it was harsh. They were never coming back. So he fell to his knees and wept.

“Why are you crying?” His mother called, as she rushed onto the beach beside him.

“My friends are gone!” The Boy sobbed, “The monster got them!”

“What monster?” His mother asked.

The Boy picked up the shards of plastic to display them to his mother. And when she saw she smiled and said simply: “That’s not a monster, sweety. That’s just trash.”