Angelique Fawns -- The Sentient Sea of Sargassum

We were living before, but not alive. The splash of the object that dissolved into our strands and leaves has changed us. Now we have desire. Before, life was one pleasant day after another floating in the warm sun. No motivation to move out of our circle of the ocean. 

Over the years we have sampled human meat from unfortunate ships trapped in our tendrils. But we’ve never craved it. Not until the joining. 

The warm waters are full of nitrogen that helps us swell and divide. Now we understand what makes us grow and we consume more. Each brown tendril of our body quivers with new senses and awareness. We stroke and bond while drifting with the current. Growing stronger and thicker. Our air-filled bladders breathe, snatching oxygen from the air. 

We nurture the frogfish and mahi mahi that thrive in our ecosystem. The sunshine beams down possibility and we glow as a new batch of turtle hatchlings wiggle in our depths.

The creatures of the ocean are our children.

Sharks hide in the shade of our belly as we float and expand with the tides. They tell tales of beaches filled with meat, a buffet lining the shore.

Our leaves quiver in anticipation. 

The seagulls also scream a story. Land covered in a feast of consumables. New plants, decomposing jellyfish, and a plethora of phosphorous.

A creation of the sea, but we crave the land. We crave snacks.

We suck in the shells of dead shrimp and sip on nitrogen. Our mass expands, our bladders of air shuddering, but we are not satiated. It’s an appetizer. A tease. Now we know of the smorgasbord on land. The complex proteins. The variety of flavors. 

A floating island, we are caught in a gyre. Wind pushes the water in a circle, defying our attempts to break free.

A wandering albatross flies overhead, her magnificent wingspan catching the wind’s current. Jealous of her effortless speed, we also yearn to travel unfettered. 

A way to reach the land. 

We concentrate, gathering biological energy. Our strands reach upwards, stiffening with salt and snaking into the sky. Hundreds of brown leaves grab her talons. She screams as she loses several feet of altitude, but then her powerful wings surge us both upwards. 

Our branches stretch as the white bird struggles to stay in the air. For a second we lose our grip, but we bond and knit together. Finding determination and strength in the challenge.  

We will be carried to land! Our mass moves like a tidal wave of brown toward the beckoning white sands of the beach. This is motion. Pure exhilaration. Fish drop and splash as their refuge peels out of the ocean inch by inch.

After a few feet, the bird loses energy and altitude. Instead of her carrying us, we are bringing her down. Her neck muscles strain, and her hooked beak chatters. 

With a final squaw of desperation, her grey-tipped wings droop. Together, we tumble back into the ocean. 

A few feeble flaps. A shiver. She is absorbed into our mass.

We are disappointed to have only moved a whale’s length but are buoyed by the snack. 

Another few moon cycles and we float. Dreaming of the land.

A blustery storm brings waves that reach as high as the albatross flew. The rain pummels leaves and waves shake our branches. When the sea calms there is a waft of sulfur and decay. Red comes towards us on the horizon. As the tide of blood-colored water grows, the oxides of hydrogen are leaving the water. 

The red algae also shares our ocean. It brings death to our children.

The creatures we harbor need oxygen. We allow our leaves to sag, and our branches to bow. Several Rockfish die. Then a school of Lingcod. Mackerel. Flag Blenny.

The red tide inches closer. Our brown leaves curl and twist to avoid touching the new life. 

We pile up our berries and branches, reaching for the sky.

But the waves are traitors, and the current is an enemy.

A tickle along the edges of our mass. Hissing as the algae bloom crawls over our borders.

Our tendrils tingle. The branches twist.

Nitrogen, nutrients, algae, and seaweed intermingle. 

Something new is born. Much like the day the alien matter splashed into our belly. We are evolving. Again.

Our entirety quivers. Like an electric shock. 

We quiver and dance as the algae merges. Infiltrating our berries. Coating our branches. Our tendrils float upwards, bubbling into a mist.

We are airborne. Full. Happy. Light.

The wind pushes us, frothing and glistening, towards the shore. We emit a toxic steam of joy. Like thousands of dead fish. Like the putrid bellows from an ancient volcano.

Bubbling and boisterous, the breeze blows our new self towards the white sand and trees. 

Landfall is bliss. We splash onto rocks, creep into the rivets of trees, land on the backs of beach bathers. 

Slurping, sampling, and seeping into skin.

Endless buffets of flesh. 

Each frothy part of us is alive and full of painful desire. Those hazy distant days of contentment under the sun in our circle of the ocean are now a dream. What was it like to feel peace? Want for nothing?   

We are hungry.