Sharks. Such massive creatures. They roam the sea that they call home, and they live their lives knowing no difference like we do. Although it’s proven they don’t actively hunt us, we actively hunt them. Humans kill millions of them each year. We fear them, but what could they possibly think of us? We capture them in nets so thin they almost slice through their flesh. We hold them out of the water as they suffocate because, without swimming to force water through their gills, they can’t breathe. As they jerk around, scared and deprived of air, they see bipedal creatures coming close to them. We cut off their fins, and like garbage, they are discarded back into the sea. As they slowly sink, they look up at the surface, the sun is reflecting off of it, and the blue of the ocean is getting darker. They hit the sandy ocean floor, sand clouding up and falling in their eyes, and rugged wound(s) where their fin(s) once were. They can barely move, if at all, so they rest there like a coin at the bottom of an old well, to stay and be forgotten. They bleed to death, drown, and get eaten alive by other marine life. To the shark, this is the end, but for some marine life, it’s a miracle or a new beginning.
All of that for a tasteless soup.
