I lie prostrate on the ocean floor, clutching the scuba tank to my chest. Silence, except for the exaggerated echo of my breaths. Shafts of hazy, muted sunlight edge tantalisingly close to my supine body. It can’t be more than eight metres to the surface.
Clownfish dart to my left, disappearing into the coral. A seahorse bucks and rears in the ocean current. I check the gauge. My air is running out; soon I won’t have a choice.
The great fish returns, languidly gliding above me. It’s shadow inches along my body, sending a shiver down my spine.
Not yet.
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Mannequin People by Michael J. Stiehl"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Gator by Randall Andrews"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Rude Awakening by Richard Lau"
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