I am told this is too bleak. I agree. Drunken men beat wives. Bad authors bash religion and superstition. Since one man’s bleakness is another man’s (or shark’s) joy….
Past. I hatched in the Arabian ocean. Those first few months were tough. I was small, helpless and mostly running for life. My future diet was my present prey. Most of my brothers and sisters died. I am told that the giant net demon spares nobody.
Present. I am grown up now. The net demon has devoured most of my family. And my food. The sea is barren now.
Future. Death will beckon. My fins will refuse to move. My hunting partner will eye me strangely. It wont be long before we size each other up and prepare to commit sharkdom’s greatest sin, eating fellow sharks. As these bleak thoughts fill my small piscean mind, my nose will pick up a scent. Fresh food. I will dive up to the surface, wait till the net demon wielder move away in his vessel of death, and I will eat. And feel joy.