The sky is ash-blackened and heavy with smoke, making each inhale a gasping effort into the strip of cloth pressed to my mouth. The suffocating scent of gasoline still chokes the air as I stumble over the cracked earth and into a small clearing on the boardwalk. From here, I can see the dark line between sand and water stretching unendingly into the distance.
The shoreline is blanketed by the bodies of dead fish, and their bulging eyes stare wide and accusing into the flaming sky. Further along the sands are those that are freshly washed ashore, still half-clinging to life as they heave and convulse forward, their gaping mouths opening and closing uselessly. Currents of black oil crash mercilessly against the coast, pooling in the sand dunes and flashing as they catch the odd glint of sunlight. It’s still early in the hours before dusk, but the smoke billowing from the downed ship, now set small in the distance, cloaks the afternoon sun in a red haze.
There’s a tall crane wading through the wreckage. Its head is feathered a dark blue and its long legs are coated black with oil. I watch as it struggles against the weight of its own limbs before clamoring gracelessly onto the metallic edge of a containment net. Cutting a dark silhouette against the horizon, the crane unfurls a glorious expanse of wings and thrashes them powerfully against the singed air before finally, finally taking flight. The bird sails far into the distant point of light before vanishing entirely, leaving the sea split and bleeding a brilliant crimson.
Natalia Monserrate is currently a 12th grade Creative Writing student at Pembroke Pines Charter High School.
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