3. The dead fish

Sorry, the post got deleted, so I had to repost it and now it's not in the right order. I hope you'll forgive me and let it pass :)

3. The dead fish

                      I woke up from the turning in my belly and thirst. I really wanted to drink and water was a problem, big problem. From all sides the raft was surrounded by whitish-blue mirage, not a single hint of a coast to be seen anywhere. The sea and the sky merged together in a dull, endless and hot fume. It was a complete calm. And even if there was wind, where could I direct the raft, if I couldn’t see the coast?

                      Strange white birds glided high in the sky. If I tried hard I could see them lunging down, diving and then coming out with a fish in their beaks. Were these seagulls grandpa had told me about? Such birds dived for their food into the water and swallowed it, if it wasn’t big, or flew further to have a peaceful meal, if a fish was too big. Straight to the coast.

                      The heat made it hard to generate any thought, but if I wanted to survive, I had to think.

                      I lied down on the raft and dipped my head into the water to cool myself a little. The water was bitter and salty, but it still managed to tickle my pelt a little. And here I noticed that one of the flying fishes caught up by its fin on the raft and stuck there. Good thing I learned to swim with my eyes open. Grandpa taught me to swim and to dive despite the objections from my dear mother.

                      ‘A real sailor must learn not fear water.’ He would say. ‘Water is your friend, if you’re an adventurer and a real rat, and a foe if you’re a complete retard and cling to your mother’s skirt all your life.’

                      How grateful was I to him right now.

                      I poked the fish a few times, but it didn’t respond. It looked like it was dead. Maybe while dancing yesterday she hit the raft and injured herself. It was a pity, but it was a chance as well. I needed to get it onboard.

                      I got out of the water. Moisture, even salty one, cooled me down. I perfectly knew that it wasn’t for long. Soon enough the relief will go away and the thirst will return with renewed vigor.

                      ‘So,’ I thought ‘I need to get off the whipcord of the mast.’

                      I spend some time nagging the cord and curling it up on the bay. One end I tied to the mast and wrapped other one around my elbow a few times.

                      I was scared. I had a scary feeling that even though the raft was right next to me, if I dived and then emerged out, the raft would be gone. I winced and then jumped in. The water was quite nice, actually.

                      I dived in under the raft and probably only from the third time did I manage to get a hold of the fish by its fins with the cord. I remember, that something slippery passed me by, nearly grazing me with its sharp flippers. I panicked letting out the air I was holding in and grabbed on the raft climbing up desperately, fish nearly slipping out of my paws.

                      I lied down, the fish unmoving by my side, for a few minutes waiting for my heart to steady. The fish was slippery, prickly and unpleasant to touch. It looked me straight in the face with its dead eye. I nearly gagged at the sight of it, nausea washing over me. I closed my eyes, taking in a few deep breaths and then held my breath. I bit into its moist, cold side.

                      The fish proved to be quite tasty and juicy. It thirst has gone away almost instantly. The fish was soft, white and tasteless.

                      The sun was already high in the shy and only a small shadow from the sail saved me from experiencing the same heat again.