The Girl and the Sea

All her life she had dreamt about the ocean. Life in the city was full of noise and plastic, but the ocean was clean and peaceful, she knew it because when she was underwater, she couldn't hear a single sound. Some nights, she wished to see it, she pictured it like the swimming pool in her school, but cleaner. Those nights, she dreamed of bright silver fish dancing through the waves and colorful animals hidding behind ancient rocks.

Eventually, the day came; she drove by night and arrived at noon. She saw the sea thorugh the car's windows. At first, it was a blue mot on the horizon, but it grew bigger as she reached the beach. Finally, it was there, standing in front of her; she couldn't tell where the ocean ended and where the sky started. 

She got out of the car as fast as possible, she took all of her clothes off so that the bathing suit was the only thing left and ran towards the water, and she swam. She swam until the beach looked like a white mot. Then, she took a deep breath and went down. 

The filthy waters in front of her, filled with cans and toilet papers, had nothing to do with the ocean in her dreams. No silver fish, no colorful animals, just empty bottles; it reminded her of the city sewers. Maybe it's just in here, she thought, maybe if I go deeper, this will go away; but no matter how far she went, the waters were still grey.

The sun was going down and she had started to loose hope when it happened. She dived one last time before swimming back to the beach, and a ray passed in front of her. It was grey, like the water, and it moved slowly, avoiding the plastic bags. It wasn't as colorful as she'd expected rays to be, but it was gigantic and beautiful, straight out of a children's book. She watched it swim far away, until it was out of sight, then she returned to the car. 

Before driving away, she looked at the sea for the last time, at that filthy ocean without playful fish or dancing seaweed, but with a big, magnificent grey ray.