The dolphin looks into your eyes. After a little while of what one might call an awkward moment of exchanged stares, it winks at you. You can hardly believe your luck. A dolphin just winked at you! You eagerly latch onto the dear thing. What can you do but uphold with full heart the suggestion of a winking dolphin? It chuckles somehow. How did you hear the chuckle? Sound doesn't travel in water. Well, at least not the same way as it does on earth. It doesn't make sense, but it doesn't matter. Nothing that has happened in the past millenniums has ever fully made sense to you, so why start worrying about little facts now? You decide to enjoy the ride.
The dolphin carries you down over the ledge with a jolt of undeniable determination. After a few minutes, there is nothing in sight, except for the colorful blue of the ocean above you and around you. You look down, thinking you might find a sandy ocean floor, but what your eyes stumble upon is something of more frightening beauty. It is a dark blue blanket of the endless ocean depth. You look forward wandering if you might be able to spot where the dolphin is headed. All you see is an average sized jellyfish. That is, it was average when you were far away.
As you draw closer, you begin to remember what you learned in science class. In open waters it is hard or even impossible to determine size or distance. Being on top of the water maximizes and minimizes things due to its concave or convex drifts. This realization grows more and more in your mind just as the jellyfish seems to grow more an more the closer you get. You find yourself worrying that the dolphin may have also made the wrong calculations as to the size of the jellyfish. Then you remember learning from one of your nerdy science friends that dolphins "see" all sorts of obstacles with their sonic senses, compromising all the illusions the waves might throw at them.
You are now only a couple yards away, and the jellyfish has grown five stories. Despite your new grown faith in the dolphin, you feel something moving in your stomach. You recognize the feeling because you have felt it before when you fell off the cliff. You recall the name you gave the pest. It is anxiety.
The dolphin heads straight for the middle of the stagnant jellyfish where its ghostly tentacles sway like tall grass in the wind. Clutching tighter to the fin, you desperately hope the dolphin will pull up and pass by the creature. While it does pull up, it doesn't pass it by. Quite the contrary, the dolphin somehow stops perfectly right above the jelly fish. The dolphin gives you a wiggle, and once again you somehow know it is asking you to get off. You refuse to believe your instinct. The top of the jellyfish is pale like a skeleton and you can detect unsavory, red veins running through its translucent flesh. The dolphin gives you another gentle wiggle. You tell yourself repeatedly that it isn't asking you to get off. You hold on tighter. The dolphin's body arches a bit as it breathes in. Then it breathes out hitting a low note. Without thinking it through you ask, "Did you just sigh?" The dolphin makes a definite smirk. You feel the trust rekindling and decide to jump off. When your feet touch the surface of the jellyfish you feel a pulse of energy. The jellyfish starts to sink slowly into the dark blue. You hear the voice from the cliff again, "Hold onto me." The voice is stronger than before.
Dumbfounded, you ask, "It was you? All this time?"
The answer is calm, "That is for you to decide."
You ask, "What happens when I do?"
"It depends on your decision."
"I'm confused."
"Will you hold onto me."
For some reason you understand that it isn't a question nor a demand. When you're ready at heart to grab on, you do, and the whole jellyfish shivers as it begins to sink faster. The blue sea above you is no longer in sight. The liquid that covers you is black, your shoes, your clothes, your hair, all black. But the jellyfish gleams. It's a vibrant yellow that surpasses all gold. Massive curves of royal violet lines illuminate in between the light. You correct yourself. The Great Fish isn't gleaming but simply radiating. However, you notice that the light isn't touching you.
You decide to wait it out, hoping it would touch you.
[Click here]
You question the jelly fish.
[Click here]
--- -Lewis T. Castle
The dolphin carries you down over the ledge with a jolt of undeniable determination. After a few minutes, there is nothing in sight, except for the colorful blue of the ocean above you and around you. You look down, thinking you might find a sandy ocean floor, but what your eyes stumble upon is something of more frightening beauty. It is a dark blue blanket of the endless ocean depth. You look forward wandering if you might be able to spot where the dolphin is headed. All you see is an average sized jellyfish. That is, it was average when you were far away.
As you draw closer, you begin to remember what you learned in science class. In open waters it is hard or even impossible to determine size or distance. Being on top of the water maximizes and minimizes things due to its concave or convex drifts. This realization grows more and more in your mind just as the jellyfish seems to grow more an more the closer you get. You find yourself worrying that the dolphin may have also made the wrong calculations as to the size of the jellyfish. Then you remember learning from one of your nerdy science friends that dolphins "see" all sorts of obstacles with their sonic senses, compromising all the illusions the waves might throw at them.
You are now only a couple yards away, and the jellyfish has grown five stories. Despite your new grown faith in the dolphin, you feel something moving in your stomach. You recognize the feeling because you have felt it before when you fell off the cliff. You recall the name you gave the pest. It is anxiety.
The dolphin heads straight for the middle of the stagnant jellyfish where its ghostly tentacles sway like tall grass in the wind. Clutching tighter to the fin, you desperately hope the dolphin will pull up and pass by the creature. While it does pull up, it doesn't pass it by. Quite the contrary, the dolphin somehow stops perfectly right above the jelly fish. The dolphin gives you a wiggle, and once again you somehow know it is asking you to get off. You refuse to believe your instinct. The top of the jellyfish is pale like a skeleton and you can detect unsavory, red veins running through its translucent flesh. The dolphin gives you another gentle wiggle. You tell yourself repeatedly that it isn't asking you to get off. You hold on tighter. The dolphin's body arches a bit as it breathes in. Then it breathes out hitting a low note. Without thinking it through you ask, "Did you just sigh?" The dolphin makes a definite smirk. You feel the trust rekindling and decide to jump off. When your feet touch the surface of the jellyfish you feel a pulse of energy. The jellyfish starts to sink slowly into the dark blue. You hear the voice from the cliff again, "Hold onto me." The voice is stronger than before.
Dumbfounded, you ask, "It was you? All this time?"
The answer is calm, "That is for you to decide."
You ask, "What happens when I do?"
"It depends on your decision."
"I'm confused."
"Will you hold onto me."
For some reason you understand that it isn't a question nor a demand. When you're ready at heart to grab on, you do, and the whole jellyfish shivers as it begins to sink faster. The blue sea above you is no longer in sight. The liquid that covers you is black, your shoes, your clothes, your hair, all black. But the jellyfish gleams. It's a vibrant yellow that surpasses all gold. Massive curves of royal violet lines illuminate in between the light. You correct yourself. The Great Fish isn't gleaming but simply radiating. However, you notice that the light isn't touching you.
You decide to wait it out, hoping it would touch you.
[Click here]
You question the jelly fish.
[Click here]
--- -Lewis T. Castle
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