diving - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The freedom is as intoxicating as if I were swimming in vodka. I can move in any direction or even just stop and float a while, not even birds can do that. Yet it isn't clear like the liquor, it's blue like a perfect sky. My air bubbles make their way to the surface with every exhale; they are only thing down here in a hurry to leave. I could stay all day if my tank would last, but as always my time here is metered by the oxygen on my back.
But it's lovely, deep down under the water, like being in different world. The water's very clear, and schools of bright-hued fish and strange sea flowers decorate the sand floor.
Leo swims in the tranquil turquoise, air bubbles rising to the surface in their clustered way. With knife in hand he gouges at the rock face to take a sample, his container ready in his pocket. When he turns to go he gets a pleasant surprise, a dolphin. He smiles and reaches out a hand before noticing that the creature isn't swimming right. Its fins are caught in netting, he's come for help. Leo approaches slowly so as not to scare him and begins to cut the tough nylon. He feels his insides start to boil, this stuff as no business being in the ocean. The dolphin moves away several times and returns again, in a few more moments the net falls away and the dolphin clicks before heading up the surface. Leo wants to laugh, cry and rage at the world all in one moment. It was only by chance he was there this time, what about all the other times a few cents worth of netting is allowed to float away?
The water was uncommonly clear, so much so that it was impossible to gauge the depth. The rocks below could be ten feet down or forty; one depth was dive-able and the other was not. Instead Jake tried to guess from her temperature, his logic being that deeper water would be colder, but with a hot sun overheard he'd have to dive past the upmost layer to find out and then he might as well kick for the bottom 'till his ears popped.
In the white beam of my headlight the coral is dusky pink with cream nodules, and on first glance is quite empty. But then a smile breaks under my mask, it's hard to do with a breathing tube in my mouth but I feel the upwards twitch. The coral is alive with seahorses. Their angled heads and tubular mouths bob and sway in the current, their transparent fins fluttering in waving motions. Each of them is clasped to the branches by a fragile tail, hardly looking more robust than a baby's finger. I should be moving on now, my air tank will only last so long; but something keeps me lingering. There is something of my childhood wishes looking back at me, perhaps it was creatures like these that fuelled my love of the ocean. Whatever it is I stay until I get a bug in my ear from the boat above. “What's taking you so long?” So I tear my eyes away and push at the water with flippered feet.