Thursday, January 9, 2014

Prompt: Dislocation, or I'm not where I'm supposed to be

Imabras swam in the crystal clear depths, chasing a flighty pod of blethen. When he could swipe a few with his paw, he swept them into his wide jaws and crunched through their scales into the salty bite of their flesh. Little morsels – hard to make a meal of them, but they were fun to chase.

The blethen swam into a narrow channel, and Imabras dove after them, flattening his chest and spreading out his wide tail flukes to avoid the stinging anemone on the sides. The blethen must have triggered them, though, because they flooded the channel with their inky toxins. Suddenly, Imabras was blind, trapped between the stone walls. He panicked and began to trash back and forth, pushing in every direction, wedging himself tighter and tighter. He stretched his long, slender neck as far as he could. If only he could reach the fresh open water to clear the toxins from his head…

Darkness, but not the confined space of the stone channel. Imabras tested, flexing one arm after another up and down and around. Nothing around him. Why could he not see? He squeezed the film over his eyes, then the inner eyelids, then the outer lids. Sliding them open, he felt the biting cold salt water on his eyes. But he could not see. The anemone toxins? Salt water? Where was he?

Which way was up? Before he could panic again, he remembered the lessons of his youth. He was no pup, scared of the dark and cold. Drawing a mouthful of water, he let it slide down his long throat and drew out the oxygen to fill his lung bladders. Waiting to see which direction he would rise, Imabras tasted the strange water and knew he was someplace he’d never been before…

Dogs in house
Houdini, Brindle

Time writing
15 minutes

January word count

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