The Shark

Another story that I wrote when I was 15 at the direction of my creative writing course. One thing that I should mention is that much of the writing that I did when I was 15 and 16 was because my teacher, Marilyn, had inspired me or asked me to write it. I remember giving her a story about Death and she began to cry when she read it. She asked to show it to one of her collegues and I never saw it again. I think it may have went into one of my files. It was during this time that I recieved an award for "Most Promising Writer of the Year," and hopefully, I will one day live up to that award.

This was a creative blurb that was written when I was given an animal to write about. At the time, I really detested sharks (probably because I lived near an ocean) but I still muddled through it.

The Shark

He swims through the ocean both predator and prey. Predator of the abundant fish and food. Prey to the instinct that only consists of hunger. He suffers but yet he tortures. he is feared, but still fears more. And what does he fear you ask. The shark fears the same things we fear; man, others, and death itself.

Should we hate the shark because he is so much like man? Should we destory the creature that is close to our brother? Should we destroy something that's only crime was to lash out at the things that he fears the most?

Are not men like a shark clothed? If so, should we not destroy ourselves for the way we lash out at things we fear. Does man feel pain? So tell me why a shark would not? And answer this last question for me. Does not the shark deserve life?