mshedwig (mshedwig) wrote,

Gray sky filled with white birds flying from one distorted branch to another. Vigorous waves from the sea forcefully strike the dark coarse sand leaving in their track a path of white foam. The stars hover above the desolate island; illuminating. Faint bellows are heard across the water, but the night keeps the culprit hidden. As the sun returns and is reflected in the ocean, movement can be observed. The quick splashes are linked together with grunts of delight, which eco off the sharp cliffs. During the day, the tough waves soften and the silhouette of life can be seen dancing within the sea.
I am the silhouette. I am the product of this land, filled with gray sky and white birds. I am the silhouette. My long brown hair moves through the water with the highest form of grace as it dances upon my . The brightening sun reflects the blues and greens of my shimmering scales onto the stones.
When the sun disappears I quickly leave the beach, for even the birds are not out tonight. In the darkest hour, large vessels fight their way closer to the rock-strewn shore. The waves hear the bellowing voices, but even the roughest fight from the ocean is not enough to keep the peculiar noise away. From the vessels appear finless hairy animals who remove me from the water and tie me to their boats.
The sun takes to the sky once again while the gray clouds still . As my scales slowly dry to a lackluster sheen I search for speak of my fate. It seems I can comprehend the bellows and in addition, these animals have resemblance to my own form. I awaken while the animals pull and tug to remove the ropes from my withering fins. Before I realize it I am back within the water. This water does not have the frothy foam of freshly broken waves, but rather has murk leading up to the surrounding glass walls. Hours pass filled with contemplation.
More of these people, as I learn they are called, point and shout at my now lackluster fin. How do I understand what they are saying? Where do all these people come from? The sign above my tank reads “Freak show”, does that make me entertainment? If we appear to be of the same origin, where are their fins? One male shouts “stupid ugly fish”, while the other male he is with spreads his lips to reveal a yellowed grin. What is this “fish” the person speaks of, is that my name? Moments later a large woman emerges and barks “divergent ” at me while tapping on the glass. Does this woman know something I do not? Am I abnormal ? Am I a fish? Am I a ? I resemble these people, am I one of them? The night fills the sky with severe blackness while the sign above remains blinding. I am the silhouette. I am the product of human and fish combined. I am the broken silhouette.
Many sun’s rise and set each filled with a new group of humans, tapping on my glass. Slowly, I find myself giving up. There doesn’t seem to be any more to life than this murky water. Occasionally there are men that pass by who want to see my bare . I get paid extra if I unhook the shells and reveal myself so I often do. Slowly, I find myself giving in. Besides the passersby, there are all the other acts within this side show.
The man with two heads always seems to stare at me with those sharp blue eyes, always judging. The dinosaur man is pacing throughout the night causing my water to stir. The one person who intrigues me the most is only in the show three days a week, sporadically changing. Her dark gray whiskers stand out against the white bars. Her strong hands clasping the metal in anticipation to be released once more. During the greater part of the week the conjoined twins occupy her cell. Their four arms, each containing misshapen fingers slide around and around on the clean white metal; contaminating. These two are joined by a great mound of flesh which connects at the pelvis. Their warped identical faces display the same blank look. Though connected and part of the same being, the two can never face each other.
I yearn for the feeling of belonging that these two must feel. There is a comforting presence evoked from the touch of another being that I long for. When the twins leave for the night my heart is lifted up by the fast paced pumping motion, for I know the bearded woman will return the following morning.
As the sun rises once again, I awake to seek out the gray comfort of whiskers. My chest burns as truth is revealed. The strong grip is not wrapped around the metal, rather, the cell is filled with vacancy.
My fin is dulling. My hair is flowing in front of my face. Removing, and then repositioning the shells is more work than its worth. With a large tug the seaweed snaps and the shells sink to the bottom of the grimy tank. With one large gasp of air I join them under the surface. Before I can come back up to take a new breath, there is a firm, steady hand on my shoulder raising me above the filth. As my limp body is removed from the tank my heart begins to pound with a familiar intensity.
Once again, I feel my hair resting on my skin. When I open my eyes, I realize it is not my hair at all, but the smooth gray that frames my saviors face. I look up into her eyes and feel comfortable. I feel safe. These are accepting eyes. This fixed gaze, like the mound conjoining the twins connects us into one superior being. When we reach the island we are greeted by the same vigorous waves, but now plants and animals cover the once desolate earth. I finally found my partner in life, the one complimentarily thing that makes me feel alive. Just as I have rediscovered life, the earth has recollected the beauty of creation. We are the silhouette. We are the product of separate lands, each with their gray sky or blinding lights. As the sun rises and sets against the gray sky filled with white birds, I hold my lover close as if trying to fold into one being. We are the silhouette.
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