The Day of the Dolphin (On hold, plot may possibly change)

Prologue

It was nothing but a bloodbath... A horrible, cruel, gut-wrenching bloodbath.

The high-pitched, anguished squeals coming from the cove we were overlooking were traumatic and disturbing, something that I knew would resonate in my memories and my ears, as if branded directly into my brain, for a very long time. From where my father and I stood, hidden from the view of the territorial fishermen, I no longer saw an ocean cove. The dolphins were, quite literally, swimming in their own blood; it looked like kool-aid... I knew they were just about done, for they had the dead carasses of dozens of once-sentiment porpoises tied by their tails, dragging them though the bloody water and out of sight, where they were no doubt arranging a secret way to transfer them to whatever supermarkets they would end up at.

They weren't done completely, for I saw one of the small wodden boats advancing on what must have been a very young dolphin not much more than a year old. A man stood up, a long stick in his hand, and stuck into the dolphin's head, ripping it back out just as quickly, and the young creature began to squeal, trying to move away from the boat, depite the gaping, bleeding wound. The man that had speared the dolphin screamed something to the other man in the boat, who revealed a bloody net, which they threw around the porpoise, holding it in one place as the spear was delivered into is tiny body five more times before its struggles ceased and they could pull it up into the boat with hooked poles.

I had watched the same thing happento an entire pod of dolphins, horrified to witness such acts, but unable to tear my eyes away at the same time...

"Dad," I finally whispered, looking at my father, who had been grimly snapping pictures of the slaughter and writing short messages on a notepad.

"Hm?" he grunted in response. I couldn't answer him, too lost for words. "I know," he said gently, as if reading my mind, "but we can't interfere. I have to get an accurate account of what does on here, Amare... It's horrible, I know, but that's why its important to get proof of what goes on here."

"I don't see why they just don't let the extra ones go..." I whispered. "Its better than killing them." He said nothing gathering up his belongings and starting to walk away. I followed him for a few miles as we tracked through the mountains just up the slope from a shallow shore to where he'd hidden his car, but something suddenly stopped me. I could have sworn I heard more of the anguished wails that those dolphins had made, but I shook it off, convincing myself that my mind was playing tricks on me. As we were about to enter the car, I got a sudden urge to look down the slope, and what I saw made my heart stop.

"Amare!" my dad called as I ran down the hill in bounds and leaps, moving straight into the shallow outlet, where I saw a dolphin. A live dolphin, no doubt a survivor of the slaughter, bleeding profusely and struggling to keep its head above the water. I kneeled down beside it, soaking my knees, but not caring. The life of this dying animal was more important to me than getting a little wet. My dad was quiet at fist, watching me hold its weakened body so that it could breath. Without looking at him, I snapped,

"I am not leaving it here." My only reply from him was to hear his cell phone dial. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Calling your Mom." I smiled, looking down at the beautiful black, grey, and white short-beaked dolphin in my arms.

"My mom's a doctor," I whispered to it soothingly. "You'll be okay. I promise." I swore for a moment that it looked at me, maybe feeling reassured, before it took another labored breath and relaxed against my supporting body.

Author's Note: Yes, I went there, ending with the dreaded Author's Note, but I can wanted to take the time to clarify something that might not be public knowledge. For anyone who has seen the 2009 documentary The Cove, the description alone will have meaning to you. To those you you who haven't, however,  this is worth reading. As you get further into this story, the fantasy element will cause it to become quite obvious that this is in no way a true story, but it was inspired by true events. Every year in a town in Japan called Taiji, from September to April, Japanese fishermen capture pods of dolphins numbering anywhere from dozens to hundreds, sell the "best" specimens to marine shows, and they rest are killed brutally by a spearing method. This is not only cruel, but it is uncalled for. There is NO demand for dolphin meat in Japan; the fishermen illegally label it as various whale meat when they sell it, because nobody buys dolphin meat. Not only that, but dolphins have one of the most toxic meat of any animal on the planet, so its very unhealthy to eat. As you read this, just remember that part of this is true, and it was that inspiration that caused me to write this story.