short shrimp story

Inside this large shrimp factory with deathly white walls, I lie in wait for what is going to be my rather painless execution.

I have been lying on ice for the last one hour. A bed of sparkly white, crystalline block of ice.My scales are numb and my right eye is blinded. There is a dull ache in my belly and i'm seeing colours above my head. Bright spots of purple, pink and several splashes of green.

Salt is life - swishing about me, seeping into my heart in prolonged osmotic experiences. I have always been an achiever. Young, virile and no creature ever dare compete with my sinewy strength and mental agility. I am loving, I am living and I am yet to get over my victory over a rather pompous sea horse.

I have a lifetime to explore the wonders of this brilliant salty paradise. I particularly enjoy peeking through the voids in bubble clusters to catch a glimpse of that weird world outside. Where the sky changes a million times like a large and undefined LCD canvas with the two gods, like tribal cheiftans, appearing and re-appearing on it. There are things called rainbows there. Though i have tried several times to catch a glimpse of that irresistible cosmic drama, i have never succeeded. My eyes are rather bulbuous. I need to stare less. I am bored with all this swimming sometimes. These unchanging whirpools, this rainless, rainbowless universe.

I can feel a dull thud from within. The last of my memory is being deftly extricated from my mashed-up brain with a pair of steel pincers. Some one's pounding my head. With each blow, i see a burst of colours. This must be the rainbow.