Living in the Dark World

I really need food, the young clown fish thought as he swam through the murky waters. His bright orange scales contrasted sharply with the otherwise dark and filthy expanse of liquid. It really couldn't be considered water anymore. He looked past the corals, which were covered in thin plastic bags that had managed to drift over. Streamers of garbage floated around it, giving it a frighteningly ghoulish appearance. Turning his head away from the scene, he swam in a different direction, desperately wishing for food, some that was hopefully not poisoned. His eyes widened as he ducked to avoid the incoming water bottle. He continued to move in a zig-zag motion, avoiding the menagerie of trash that traveled his way with the current. Hours later, he settled on partially clean can, tired of his unyielding search. His eyes wandered,dreaming of a clean world, the ones his family told him about. The crystal clean waters, colorful reefs, it was all gone. His parents were gone, after a harsh battle with a heartless net. He shuddered at the memory of his parent's hopeless faces as they desperately tried to swim away, eventually succumbing to their fate. They're probably in a better place than I am. Hearing his growling stomach, he figured it was best if he continued his hunt for food. He started to move when he was tugged back. Alarmed, the fish turned to see his fin stuck to the sharp edge of the can. He pulled harder and harder, afraid it was the end. With one last tug, he flew off, a piece of his fin still stuck to the can. His caudal fin searing in pain, he swam, his need for food much greater. Forcing himself to move further, he saw his vision go blurry. Struggling to see, he managed to spot a small patch of seaweed at the bottom. A small beam of hope lit inside him. He raced to the patch as fast as he could go. He gobbled it all down, all the little bits. It tasted a bit funny, but it was probably his ravenous hunger. Settling there, his fin still in pain, he fell asleep. He slept, not knowing what he had eaten was plastic. Green and stringy, anyone would have thought it was seaweed. It wasn't his fault, it never had been. It was the people who ruined his home, ruined his life. He slept, not knowing that above him, the world was a similar hell of trash and garbage. That the once-miracle invention, plastic, had become the single reason for the world's ultimate destruction.