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Blue (2 days left)

I wasn't so sure if I could possibly consider myself a king of the ocean, but perhaps I was? Or maybe I should say that there are loads of intrepid kings out there, but I'm among the group. 

The sea was everything to me, being on top of the food chain and all, and sometimes I boast a lot when I encounter other predators hunting, showing off by going for the biggest swimming prey out there nearest to them. It's not an easy task, but nonetheless, I get it done. 

And I enjoy their remarks. Or even their annoyances.

But even being the top predator of a vast ocean could also spell doom if one encounters a not-so-friendly one. 

Among the crew was the biggest shark I've ever seen: Megalodon. 

They never spoke. Never blinked. Never hesitated. And above all, never showed mercy to any marine reptile.

My friend died from one, and I could recall though my traumatized memories of seeing the immense amount of blood floating to the sea bottom as the shark tore him up like a chew toy. 

I'd never see him again, I know that now. But his dream to live as a king encouraged me to rise above the 'pack'. His death shattered me, and his name I keep hidden from all, even those close to me so I don't fall for the same fate, or worse lose myself.

Like how I lost my parents. Even that memory remains locked inside my gut.

Though that was years ago, I try not to stray far off from where I live; near the luminous corals and open ocean. Trees of these colorful plants glowed ion the earth while fish satisfyingly crawled into its body as homes. 

Too bad I couldn't gain a home like that. I'd have to flow into larger caves in that manner. Currently, I was roaming the open ocean, after grabbing a few bites of shark a few minutes ago. It tasted funny, however, as if it's been eating sand its entire life. 

Yuck! 

The sky was growing darker on the surface, and the ocean's prey began to disperse after dark. A midnight sun began to crawl to the starry skies as its partner slowly drowned in water, watching intently at the lush world before its body. I stayed on top near the surface, with glowing eyes in the coming darkness, watching my back and front constantly.

Perhaps you're asking why.

 If you think the sea is like a horror movie in the day from countless blood-thirsty predators and brutal flesh tearing fights, you'd be completely fresh-meat at night. Evil comes at night. For a Kronosaurus like me, and being young and all, when night comes, you have to watch your back. I've been attacked at night once, and it wasn't a good experience having a squid on your snout. But tonight was going to be a bit different. 

When the sun finally set in the distance and darkness fully consumed the once thriving sea, I floated up the surface, eyes wide and alert for prey, and predators. I felt isolated, the only living figure in the sea from my view, and the corals seemed darkened by the black sky on the surface. Being a Kronosaurus at night though is a good advantage. I could detect things from far away, whatever it is, and smell blood from miles away. And possibly zoom there in a matter of minutes. 

But that's for tomorrow. 

On the surface, I always wondered how life existed up there. The sky changes colors up there, and standing plants, unlike the floating ones down near the coral, raise high and tall, and quake in the so-called wind from the ocean. Earthquakes, storms, twisters, droughts, anything nature throws attacks up there. And land-dwellers exist on the land, walking on two or four legs. Strange enough to take in such visions for a sea creature, and as badly as I want to experience the outside world, I can't. It's suicide to inhale something that I can't really breathe. Oxygen. Carbon. Air in general. Now that I'm thinking about it, it sucks right now to be a Kronosaurus. I never had the exact experiences as land-dwellers did.