Every time I go back to the apartment, I feel like someone’s watching me.
My husband tells me it’s just paranoia, but when the sunset lengthens the shadows, my skin always begins to crawl. I can feel them, over that way, watching and waiting for something.
All in my head, my husband insists. The only thing “out there” is the Pacific Ocean, uninterrupted for at least five thousand miles. Who do you think is watching, exactly?
***
The whales had been watching humans develop in downtown San Francisco just before the tsunami arrived.
…It was there just a moment ago…
100 words. Inspired by this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt:
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That’s chilling. If we urn the tables and are the watched, and not the watchers, we might learn to see things a bit differently. I love your take on the prompt.
What do whales think of human cities that are there one morning and gone the next?
We may not be “top of the tree” after all. I wonder what the whales think of us and whether they have an agenda?
What agenda? I would see whales as thinking slowly and in the long term; their world changes slowly, when it changes at all.
Until those fast-moving humans appear with their harpoons, anyway.
Excellent spring board for the imagination!
Diving board! Everybody, into the pool, yay!
If the whales are watching us they must be pretty horrified at what they see! Nice story.
Where did all this crap floating on the surface of the ocean come from? Damn monkey neighbors again?
Nice
Great story. We had similar thoughts on this one!
Dear Dave,
I’m with Sandra. I also think if the whales are watching us they must be bored beyond belief. 😉 Well done.
Shalom,
Rochelle