Dolphin Life
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The ocean’s surface glitters, but beneath lies chaos—banana peels drift like rotting jellyfish, oil barrels belch black poison, aluminum cans slice currents with jagged edges. Your tail churns, pulse racing as you dart through the maze. A plastic bag balloons toward you, ghostly and suffocating; you twist sideways, gills flaring. Rusted chains clank like predators’ teeth, snagging your dorsal fin until you thrash free. Acidic tang stings your eyes—chemical sludge blooms ahead. You plunge deeper, but tires loom below, their hollow centers hungry to trap you. Every flick of your flippers is a gamble: the sweet stench of decaying fruit masks a net’s silken threads, soda rings coil like eels, waiting to shackle. Breathe. Swim. Survive. The humans’ waste never sleeps, and neither can you.
