A school of silver fish meandered through the liminal space between the sea and the sky, leaping in synchrony. Their slick bodies arched. Scales grilled by the torrid sunlight glistened like scattered coins. The heat was so searing the water seemed to evaporate from their smooth backs. They could feel the cool air through their gills. Beneath them lay an ecosystem, pulsing with life. Below, the crustaceans crawled between coral crevices. Crimson crabs picked at debris with their clamorous claws. Lobsters wove deftly through thick tangles of seaweed that danced to the beat of the sea in a silent ritual. The water held a deceptive serenity. A camouflaged octopus watched a leaden ship cast a pall over the tranquil sea. The water rippled as if warning the creatures. Not all of them heard it. A blanket of chunky, verdigris stitches knotted together spread across like a web of betrayal. Its fibres laced with fear. The school of fish, once moving so freely, were thrown into chaos. They darted into desperate zigzags; trepidation loomed over them. Their iridescent bodies were like flashes of lightning under the ominous shadow of the ship. The net tightened. The strong ones wriggled through the holes of the net, slithering their way to freedom. The smaller, weaker fish knew they had lost. Their bodies grew weary, the strength to escape slipping from their fins. Their silver flashes faded into a white haze as they ascended above the surface, torn from the only world they had ever known. Their bodies pressed together, suffocating in fear. Gills flared in desperation. Tails thrashed in frantic attempts to escape. Their glassy eyes, once gleaming like fine cuts of obsidian, grew dull, as if the light had been stolen from them forever. The net rose slowly. Their fragile world shrank with every heave of the fisherman’s rope. The surface, once a distant mirage, loomed closer. They ascended into a world they did not belong to. They gasped for water. The air stinging their gills. A whale sang in the distance, as if mourning these beautiful creatures. The haunting sound lingered through the ocean like a requiem for the lost. The waves carried it to the shore. A flock of seagulls froze mid-flight, their feathers ruffled with the doleful mourning hymn.The octopus watched from the shadows of a coral reef, its body shifting from hues of violet to dusky mauve. One of its arms curled around a rock in search of solace, another coiled inward, seeking safety, yet another curled in anger, pressing against the sand. Many times before, it had watched nets descend, littering the ocean with foreign fibres, and rise again brimming with stolen lives. The fishermen admired their trappings, feeling not a morsel of guilt. The octopus, however, felt the weight of every lost life, every soul snatched away from the ocean’s embrace. All three of its hearts ached silently. This story was published in The Irish Times Fighting Words magazine, a collection of stories, poems and essays by young and international writers