Topic for the essay is 'Under the Sea'. Any suggestions are greatly appreciated.
He recalled the days of swimming in the turquoise sea, floating in an empty void of peace and silence. He truly loved and admired the mysteriousness of the uncharted seas and found true fascination by nature - how the calm waves softly collided against the rocky beach, kissing each stone with a gentle caress as the cool breeze ushered them gently towards the shore. He sits by the cliffed coast every sunset, watching the waves ebb and swash as the sun's rays shine off the crystal clear water, its golden light warping in the twisted, glass-like waves. No description can truly capture its magnificence, yet only a few words can express the elegance it brings to our world.
He always tells his friends, "The sea is the mother of mysteriousness and beauty. She is the soul of the world, the keeper of the majestic oceanic kingdom. She flows over the soaring heights of mountains to the depths of trenches around the globe in a strong embrace."
As he emerges into the brine, water moves gently through his outstretched fingers, stroking cooly and ebbing in their wake. He takes out his hand and at the same time, he sees the drips, both clear and opaque. They plunge as though snatched to the saline below by gravity, each rapidly haloed by ever-growing rings, distorting the pebbled seabed. Bits of salt and micro-particles flow through his flesh and bones, leaving a tingling sensation that tightened his skin and smoothened his body. The sunlight gave a warm, translucent glow so far down into the water in which those once golden rays from above are only blue; and the deeper he swims, the less light that may penetrate.
Moving through her depths, he becomes aware of her currents. In them are schools of the living creatures, the ones that remained in her watery embrace when land-dwellers sought the shelter of trees. From time to time, he is surprised by a lone fish, invisible until it enters the feeble beam, materializing from dull, age-old corals that once earthed communities of fish. On the other side of his royal azure slippers embedded a magnificent coral reef. They sang of living in their colours; a choir seen by the eyes and heard by the soul. The corals were a coup de maître of imagination upon a canvas, a divine Atlantide evoked by the most innocent of dreams. It was a massive, living and breathing structure comprised of a plethora of unprecedented, harmonic creatures.
It was pure aesthetic scenery. A lurid cornucopia of sea creatures enthralled his eyes. Crimson-red anemones swayed side to side as waves surged through the seafloor. Orange-striped clownfish concealed with them, seeking succor from hungry predators that wished to devour the divine creatures. A hundred-year-old sea turtle struggled as it swam up from the deep, seafloor, desperate for oxygen. It was lucky to live for decades amidst the danger that lurked in every corner. It's moss-coated shell held a record of its growth and struggles; a rough, scratched, dusky yellow body (possibly attacked by hundreds of cold-blooded brutes hungry for its flesh) with a multitude of black spots interspersed along with it. How old is it? How long will it live? Just like the sea, life is a mystery. Under the fine grains of sand, a stingray meticulously camouflaged and patiently waited to ambush a mindless, silvery-gray salmon that unconsciously drifted into its trap. A haze of dust later and the salmon lied convulsing in the sand, electrocuted and paralyzed by its deadly sting. Hundreds of feet below, the blood of prey meet the silvery skin of the shark, as it carefully patrols the briny deep. Red bits of flesh hung out of it's sharp, yellowish fangs, followed by bloody trails of its victim's remains.
It is all different now.
The sea, which was blue yesterday, lapping precious grains of sand with the cool water of an early summer tide is now darker than the lonely, night sky. From above, it seems no more alive than a bucket of water, and the bottom lies an abyss of dead fish. A disgusting rainbow sheen produced by slick oil flow through the once stunning sea's surface, in which blinded seagulls coated in sticky crude flop helplessly, desperate to reach the black beach. The foul smell of toxic chemicals carried by the breeze and disposed plastics overpowered the fresh smell of the brine and majestic sea life. The tranquility that the coastlines bring will be gone, but pollution remains in the deepest of the waters.
He takes a final strive in the sea; the one that he loved and cared for. It wasn't his first rodeo and isn't scared of the waters. As he dipped his body in the grimy water, he felt like he was sinking; legs exhausted and struggling to bring him back towards the sun-speckled surface. He looked below and noticed a strange presence. It resembled a tenebrous mass of enmeshed limbs made out of waste substances like plastics bags and bottles, each plated with a layer of vile, paralyzing tar. The presence held on the boy's feet, its physique hardly discernible in the shadowy twilight of the deep waters. As it's force grew stronger as seconds passed by, the boy knew that he was no match for the might of the mysterious 'thing'.
He enveloped by the dark body of water. His chest was squeezed painfully by the immense pressure, and his lungs burned as though on fire. He gave in and breathed air to only absorb a gush of salty water. The sea, foul and polluted, tasted filthy. He opened his mouth again, but this time he screamed. He let out a string of bubbles. Despair fills him with every struggling gulp. The commotion and chaotic sounds of the sea slowly drowns out to a low hum, which gradually mutes into complete silence, one with the darkness. His vision begins to blur as his consciousness faltered. He waits in resignedness for the numbing hands of death to suck away every last piece of life left in him. His body slowly descends into the void.
Who knows where he is now.