The Silent Whispers of Each Wave by Alaina Hor

I have long lost faith in humanity ever since that fateful day.

But how would I have known that they could get any worse than they already were?

They say humans create meaning to exist in this world;

to strive and live to the fullest in their one, fortunate lifetime.

If that’s the case, then they should get off their high horse and imagine themselves in our shoes to see just how much torment we go through, and all because of them. Just witnessing how carefree they are sickens me to my stomach.

My whole life, I drowned in what I thought was the sea of nothingness, the sea of despair.

I thought, maybe this pain was temporary, and if I just held up a little longer, I could finally break free from the shackles of suffering that trapped me in this endless black abyss.

But no, the aching never went away.

It instead increased to abnormal, unspeaking amounts of sorrow I had to endure, one that I never thought that could get any worse.

Their careless laughter filled my ringing ears, making me burn with hatred and disgust as they slowly left my point of vision. I gagged at the plastic entering my lungs, blocking my passage of air as I stumbled and stumbled, soundlessly crying for help. There was nothing I could do except endure the agony that engulfed and suffocated me mercilessly. Bubbles were forming in the water from my mouth, and my vision started to blur as I felt my heart pumping faster and faster.

I am what they call a “turtle”, a species who are known for their extensive lifespan. I, among many others, lie along what they call a “beach”, underwater in the “ocean”. Was that perhaps the reason why they targeted us? To torment us out of jealousy for our long lives? But we have done nothing wrong, we have not done any harm to the humans; we simply coexisted with each other. So why? Do they think we are some otherworldly alien that doesn’t feel any emotions or distress? Is that why they make us go through all this misery from their trash?

On that fateful day, my family was taken away because of what they called an “oil spill”. The chemical plagued my parents, my siblings, and my grandparents from internal poisoning, all as I watched them cough up blood and their souls be taken out of their precious bodies. At that moment, I thought the universe was going to end; I thought that my time would be up on this oh- so beautiful planet stained by the cruelty of mankind. However, by a miracle, a human approached me and quickly swept me up in their arms, away from the oil spill, and transferred me to another beach, the ocean I currently lie in, and the one I’m soon to meet my cruel fate in.

Even now, even in my last breaths, I didn’t care about such kindness that one human gave to me. What makes me so different from the rest of the turtles who died? Why did it have to be me, and only me that survived out of everyone else? I’d rather die with all my relatives, and reunite with them in the heavenly skies above, so why did it just have to be me that only survived?

 I wanted to believe there would be more humans out there that were just like the one who saved me, who thought that their carelessness of pollution entering our homes were wrong, but a contradicting idea popped into my head. If there were such humans with considerate hearts that existed in this world, none of the things that occurred to me at this moment would ever have to happen. In the end, that human most likely had ulterior motives. No use crying over spilled milk. What’s done is done. 

My eyes started to drift away, my mind started to go blank, and I felt my heart suddenly  halting to slow, steady beats. It was like my heart realized I had no hope left in my soul, and that I was ready for death to come for me. It was like my heart was pumping its last message to me, my last regret on this planet. Turns out, I had mistaken that drifting piece of plastic as food, and, as I was desperate, I quickly swallowed it. 

But then again, that piece of plastic wasn’t supposed to pollute my home anyways. It wasn’t supposed to be in the trenches of my ocean; what is made on land stays on land, so obviously, it was the vile work of humans who have sabotaged and taken advantage of my poor soul. Do they realize just how much damage they have caused to not just my own species, but every species that dwells in the ocean? Just because humans don’t live underwater, doesn't mean they have a right to destroy it. 

As I blinked away my final moments, I felt my body gradually becoming limp, with the plastic stuck between my lungs entirely consuming me whole. Regretful, I took a deep breath and sighed away my anger. It wasn’t a satisfying death, nor was it a terrible one. I was left with many questions unanswered, but eventually, I had to let go of the pent-up rage. 

This very moment was all too peaceful, feeling all too calm. I embraced the peaceful light that finally has come to bring me home, closing my eyes and letting my body forever drift with the waves of my cherished homeland, never to be disturbed by the brutality of mankind ever again.