The Whale off Staten Island (198 Words)
You never know how big a thing is until you see it with your own eyes. I’ve seen a great many things, but of all the things I’ve seen I never saw this Whale that lived on the bottom of the ocean. That story is left to my neighbor.
This neighbor was taking the ferry to Staten when the storm carried him far off course. He was swept overboard and thought for sure he was going to die. My neighbor opened his eyes, and the world around him was shining in eerie patches of green.
And there was the Whale.
“What are you doing in my ocean, man?” said the Whale.
“It isn’t my fault!” said my neighbor. “Your ocean pushed me!”
“Even so,” said the Whale, “what am I going to do with you?”
“Send me up, please,” said my neighbor, “and I won’t ever cross you again if I can help it.”
“Very well,” said the whale. “These two friends of mine will go with you to remind you of your word to me.”
So up he went—and I’m a liar if there aren’t two in his aquarium by the window, even to this day.
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This post is written in response to the Daily Post’s daily prompt, “Dominant” and Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner.
WALLIE'S WENTLETRAP 