I was watching the fish a few days ago, and decided to join them. Their flickering fins slowly glinted as the sun sank beside me. I came prepared: purple swimsuit, goggles, and a glowstick But I left behind a life preserver. It was on the shore, just in case, but as my feet graced the waves it no longer felt necessary to take precautions.
The golden red hues faded as the water got cold and I continued to drift. My glowstick glanced off scales and shells, and my hair dye ran like blood around me.
Humans aren't supposed to be able to live without oxygen. The body will shut down in at least four minutes with severe brain damage, and the possibility of death, But how can one think of that in moments like this?
Even when all that is left is green, man-made light, Waiting two seconds in murky liquid, the water comes alive. Anemones waved as I sunk deeper, their glow penetrating the black. Schools of fish twirled between my thighs as I landed softly on a coral bed, then slipped off into the sand.
Bubbles brewed from my nose.
Eyes burning as my gaze roved I was blind in the darkness. My chest began to tighten, But who cared? I had been watching fish, and found myself instead.