chelydra

Hey Feebilla—
You're supposed to write a story or say how great other people's stories are, or both, when you're on the ThinkWrite page. If you just need to talk to yourself in public, you can have a whole thread for that, back and forth, knock yourself out! Just start a new topic and go for it.

Billa

Really? I'm so touched, thank you. I look forward to seeing your creations!

mum23

Distraught, Kayla watched the last captive killer whale as he languished at the bottom of his pool, making slow circuits, at random intervals, around his tiny domain. Usually a cheeky, playful rascal, his toothache was making him aloof and distant.

White Toad had been bestowed his ignominious name when he was first brought here. An unusually pale youngster, he’d been found hopelessly tangled in fishing nets, cut to shreds and close to death. Grieving and without guidance after an irresponsible fisherman’s spear had killed his mother, he’d been wandering aimlessly for weeks. Although orcas, the largest species of dolphin, were plentiful along this coastline, he was a transient; the resident packs wanted nothing to do with him. With Kayla’s care he’d recovered, and his intelligent good nature had made him a favourite with staff and visitors for twenty five years.

Attitudes were changing though. With greater awareness of these magnificent, highly social creatures, fewer people wanted to see them in aquariums. Henceforth, they would remain free to roam the oceans, where they lived more than sixty years. In captivity, most orcas died before thirty years of age, ostensibly of tooth decay.

Or maybe boredom.

Or loneliness.

Or a broken heart.