Underwater World

• Grace Rheinberger, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2010

My eyes open. Today is the day. It’s diving day. Finally the day has come where I can get away from the misery of my horrible teacher. Every morning the only thing she says is “get your maths books out.” But today I can escape to the depths of the sea, like a mouse escaping too its small hole.

All of a sudden the world around me comes to an abrupt stop as my mind shuts down and floats away to the memories of my recent expeditions underwater.

I walk to the dock, adjust my air tank and ‘WHOOSH’ I am plunging into the darkness of the ocean. I look up. I see the ripples from my dive spreading over the surface like colours, from an artists brush spreading over a blank, lonely page. Eventually, my orange flippers put in motion; I proceed deeper and deeper into my very own underwater world.

I feel so comfortable down here. Instead of bustling around in the busy city above, I can relax. The cool water runs over my warm wetsuit as I pull the water with my strong, now prune-like hands and take in everything in my secret, undiscovered domain.

It’s so different under the world of men. Buses and cars and trains are all turned into calm, quiet fish or plants rustling with the gentle waves that slide past me like a cool breeze. My teacher always makes me do the maths of addition and subtraction. But here the only maths I do is subtracting the cuttlefish from the starfish.

All most poor children worry about up there is the stress of school, books and blackboards. The only school I see here is a group of harmless fish swimming past.
In the city there is the annoying sound of crying babies and the uninviting language of fighting children. Below all that, the only cry I hear is the distant high pitched song of a dolphin or whale.

Above here, new things are always the centre of attention. Shining, beautiful and every ones favourite. Underneath that, those exquisite materials are converted into attractive history that is much more than beauty, but they are: Stories. Mystery. Memorials. Down here there’s much more to meet the eye than just new and beautiful.

Things never last forever in the world above. They are thrown away, never used or lost. But like the ‘Titanic’ sometimes they are lost in the ocean where people like me can see them in a more imaginative, creative and mysterious way.

Suddenly an irritating noise breaks the peaceful silence of the deep ocean. A beep. Then another, and another. I realise what it is. My life giving tank of oxygen is running low, that means another restful, exciting adventure has come to an end.
My mind flicks back to reality. I jump out of my dream-giving bed, pull on my wetsuit and walk to the dock. I adjust my air tank and ‘WHOOSH’ I’m plunging into the darkness of the ocean.