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Performance

Life is a stage. How will you act?

By WHATisYOURobsessionPublished 3 years ago 7 min read
1

Everything is dark. Yet it is not. Light begins to seep into the surroundings, muted still but lending itself enough to the surrounding environment to grant the eyes adequate understanding. The murky grays grow more vibrant, tainted with blue. The swirling shadows dance before her eyes as the light casts white throughout the blues. “Home” she smiles to herself as the molecules glide across her body and each other. She is minutely aware that she is moving. Swimming. Grace and ease are the only adjectives for it. She can feel that she is born for this. She was meant to be this. Her speed increases, she flicks her tail harder, her torso bobs up and down and the narrow gray channel of cement beneath her zips past in a blur. The momentum builds, her heart pounding, and she thrusts herself forward with everything she has to offer- She launches into the arena, the air hits her moistened skin, lights pop and flash before her amongst the inky dark as the sound of humans cheering erupts from every corner. She can’t see them, but she knows, she simply understands that this is what she always intended for. She lands on a small precipice tucked against a far wall. It feels unstable, not secure beneath her feet at all. Her feet? She briefly wonders. She turns and spreads her flippers apart, smiling wide as the crowd of invisible onlookers cry out in delight. She feels dry and not quite right, so she pushes her feet against the thin concrete shelving and feels her tail return as she falls backwards, dolphin once more. The water smashes against her back, crisp and hard, the salty scent rising and greeting her olfactory senses. She breathes a sigh of relief, grinning madly as the cool slick water envelops her while she sinks deeper, wrapping its embrace around her once more. She circles the pool once, twice, and leaps out again, droplets sparkling around her as she freefalls back to her wet abode. She adores the sounds of water burbling past her ears, comforting and beautiful, followed by the high pitched mingling noise the human makes. She isn’t sure when this started, but for years she has known that she too is a human. That in her dreams, she can become this elegant creature of the depths, aware she is human while feeling entirely correct in this underwater Eutherian skin.

Until the day they came. Devouring. In droves, pursuing and attacking, tearing her apart from the inside out.

She was but a child, 6 years old. The dreams were fantastical. She awoke feeling as though she had been there in that strange stadium, mere moments before. She prayed to return each night. She didn’t always manage it. But when she did, it felt like a long lost piece of her being returned.

The day it began to change snuck up on her like a finessed feline upon its prey.

Light seeping in through the curtains, fluttering across her eyelids and beckoning her to awake. The scent of baked goods wafting on the current. She groans, squeezing her eyes tighter, balling her body up and sighing. She loosens her grip on the blanket, relaxing her squinted face and lowering her legs from her torso. Her eyes pop open and she mumbles something incoherent. “Fine, fine. I’m up. Ok. I’m up. Fine. Ugh.” She grumbles to nobody in particular. After several struggled minutes, she trudges to the kitchen and greets her family. Warm toast rests on a plate on the counter. She feels her stomach gurgle at the sight of her favorite breakfast food.

The day begins like any other. She brushes her teeth after the light meal, washes the remnants of sleep from her eyes and face, and yawns as she dons fresh clothes. Her mother runs a brush through the girl’s thick hair and secures it in a ponytail. She walks to school at a hurried pace behind her older brother. She waits patiently against the brick wall as the brusque morning air finishes rousing her from drowsiness. She observes everyone standing together in groups of 2 or 3, occasionally 4. Perhaps that was when it started. Who can say.

The metallic ring of the bell, and a sharp click as the lock is undone. The doors are shoved open by the first student as the secretary retreats to her office, leaving the fray to themselves. Everyone rushes forward at once to file in like cattle. She knows by now to stay against her wall and wait until the crowd thins lest she be swept under the stream of flesh.

Classes. Recess. Classes. Lunch. Always alone. Nobody notices her. Nobody vies for her attention. She begins to feel that when someone’s gaze is on her, it’s not a friendly thing. Something about it feels unwelcome, hostile. She is afraid to be seen. The anxiety began at age 6. From where it stemmed, she did not know. She still does not, 20 years later. Perhaps the anonymity carried with it a comfort, and to suddenly be thrust before watchful eyes that were not cheering like in her dreams was the cause.

Perhaps it was that she was not this beautiful sleek creature in waking life as she was her dreams. That these other creatures lurked nearby, sleek and majestic, menacing and powerful. And she was nothing like that. The sharks were always waiting. Their eyes wide, cold, and hungry. They fed many times a day.

Her dreams came fewer and less frequent. The sharks consumed. As they fed, she fled. The light and the crowds, the welcome underwater feeling, she retreated from these things. The dreams became no more. Until she looked again, through new eyes grown accustomed to the dimmer light, and saw that these sharks were not the fearsome creatures they once appeared to be. She watched from the shadows, back pressed against the wall. 10 years had passed since that day it began. And now she saw things differently. She had grown into her very real human form, aware she could not live and breathe underwater, and this land form was indeed her reality. Not quite a woman, but no longer a child, she accepted that those dreams were a fantasy and humans cannot shape shift. But they can shift their appearance. Metaphorically, of course. They can lead you to believe they are a certain way, and you see them in that light. Until you look from a different angle. Until you gaze from the shadows. And these ferocious sharks, were not swarming her for the kill. They weren’t travelling in packs meant to maim. They clung together for safety. They had the sharpest teeth, but the most fear and caution. So much did not make sense to them. So much could hurt them. They were afraid to trust. Their reaction was to bite first and see what came next. To find out what was nearing their territory, they “lash” out. As the sharks of the deep nibble to feel and see new objects, these humans were the same. They felt out the world differently. But it only wounded if you provoked them to come back for another bite. If you responded to the first inquisitive nibble with anger and fear, they attacked. But if you responded with understanding, and kindness, and most importantly forgiveness, the sharks became sweet, trusting, and beautiful creatures.

She showed her bullies kindness. She thanked the adults that put her down for teaching her to overcome and be more than they said she could be. She became the dolphin that conquers swarms of sharks. Beautiful and confident, she began to swim through life. Even the turbulent oceans frightened her from time to time, but still she swam on.

She is grown now. She dreams new dreams. She makes them real like all the last. And she dances with sharks, the misunderstood predators. The crowds cheer, watching with baited breath for her next captivating performance. She embraces the watchful eyes. And she is home.

Short Story
1

About the Creator

WHATisYOURobsession

Just a dreamer writing in the hopes to fund college.

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