At Night, I Swim In The Fjords
“The orcas are feeding tonight. Wake up!”
I slowly opened my eyes. The silvery voice was coming from the luminous faceless creature floating above my face. It appeared to be a glowing red bell with thick, orange tentacles that extended from its body.
I tried to move my hands and feet, but as I looked down at my slightly illuminated torso, I realized I had five leathery arms.
It had occurred frequently on the polar nights. I would go to bed and wake up in the middle of the dark underwater wilderness of the fjords, a solitary bottom dweller surrounded by magical creatures.
Tonight, a helmet jellyfish hovered over me as it excitedly waited for its fill of the scraps from the orcas’ feeding frenzy.
We could hear their tails splashing the surface waters, followed by a loud whistling sound, almost like a scream, as they pounced their prey.
“It’s tough to be a fish in these waters,” the jellyfish sounded off.
Down here was a world where I felt safe. I could stay firmly planted on the seabed, motionless, far-removed from the cutthroat surface waters.
But some nights, a sense of void would suddenly creep into my whole being. The sensation would be so overwhelming it felt…
