Morning light shone through the waves, painting the water in soft silver and blue. Manta stretched his wide wings. Swoooosh, flap! Sharky yawned, showing off his rows of tiny teeth.
“Morning, Manta,” said Sharky sleepily. “Morning, Sharky! Let’s go find breakfast!” chirped Manta.
But today, something unusual drifted in the water. All around them, strange shapes floated lazily: some small, some big, some blue, some white, even pink and green. They twirled and flapped like jellyfish, but they didn’t glow, and they didn’t swim on their own.
“Look! So many creatures? What are they?” said Manta, eyes wide.
“Hmm, they don’t smell like fish,” said Sharky, sniffing the water. “But maybe they’re just hiding their taste. Let’s stalk them!”
And so the two little hunters began their game.
Manta swooped down and flapped his wings hard, FWOOOSH, sending one of the floating things spinning end over end. Sharky giggled and darted after another, nudging it with his snout.
“This one’s so slow! I could catch it with my eyes closed,” laughed Sharky.
“Watch this, I’ll scare it!” said Manta, flapping around.
He charged at a bag, only to pass right through it. The “creature” folded flat around his face. Flap! Splat!
“Mmmph! Help, it’s sticking to me!” cried Manta, muffled.
Sharky pulled it off, bubbles escaping as he chuckled. “You look like a sea monster with that on your head!”
They chased and played with the floating shapes, but soon it wasn’t fun any more. The strange things never ran, never fought back, never made the game exciting.
“They don’t even wriggle,” sighed Manta. “Not like real prey.”
“I’ll try one anyway,” frowned Sharky.
He darted forward and lunged at a big, crinkly one. Snap! His jaws closed. But instead of tasty meat, he got nothing, just cold seawater and flimsy scraps.
“Bleh! Where’s the blood? Where’s the crunch?” spluttered Sharky.
He tried to swallow, but the bag broke into pieces. Bits of plastic clung to his teeth and slipped into his throat. Suddenly, Sharky began to gag.
“Ghhk, Manta, help!” he choked.
Manta’s eyes widened in fright. Without thinking, he swept in close, reached his little fins into Sharky’s mouth, and tugged hard. Yank! Sluuurp! Out came a slimy tangle of plastic, trailing like seaweed.
“There! You’re safe now,” Manta panted.
Sharky coughed out bubbles, his gills flaring. “Thanks. I thought I was done for. That thing nearly choked me.”
They floated side by side, shaken. Around them, more of the silent, drifting shapes bobbed in the waves, bumping gently against rocks and corals.
“What are these creatures?” said Manta softly. “They look alive, but they’re not. They’re dangerous.”
“If I couldn’t tell the difference,” said Sharky sadly, “what about other little sharks? Or turtles? Or even you, Manta?”
Neither of them had an answer. They watched the drifting bags with uneasy eyes, not playful any more.
As the tide carried more of the strange shapes across the reef, the two friends swam away, hungry and thoughtful.
In the quiet, Manta whispered, “The ocean is beautiful, but it feels sick.”
And Sharky, still shaken, replied, “Maybe one day, we’ll learn what these strange floating things really are. I just hope they don’t hurt too many of us first.”
They swam off together, small shadows in a vast sea, while behind them the colourful bags drifted on, silent reminders of a sadness the young ones could not yet name.
To be continued.