Seahorse - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
At first glance the diver only saw pink coral. She took out a camera and began to take photos for the magazine. After she had enough shots she drew closer to feel it. Something moved. Frozen in place she observed for a few minutes, then like one of those fancy trick 3D pictures she began to see something else. There was a pygmy seahorse with it's tail wrapped around the coral, its camouflage was so much like it's surroundings that just melted from view the second she stopped focusing on where it was. Its body was a soft pink was the exact shade of the main stems but it had darker pink lumps on it just like its home.
In the white beam of my headlight the coral is dusky pink with pale 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.
Delicate equine features, swimming upright, male brood pouch for female to put eggs in, shallow tropical waters, fluttering small fin on back, anchored to coral or grasses with prehensile tails, exquisite camouflage, big round eyes, elongated pipe-like snout sucks in plankton and small crustaceans, bulging tummy.
The seahorse is crafted as if God hammered it from the most beautiful molten metal. Every part of it is flat and angular, yet it makes to most heavenly organic shape. It has a passing resemblance to horses of course, but the more I watch it the more I see the pipe-fish it is more closely related to with beating fins and fishy eyes. In the wrong place its ornate camouflage would be useless, but here on just the right coral it is almost invisible. If I didn't know they were here I would never find them, never ever. I study them for bulging pouches, there's something about a pregnant father that tickles me, though I know it's normal for them. I don't see any today, perhaps next time.
In the playground of the universe the seahorse is joy sewn into matter. She curls her tail about the coral as a newborn curls their fingers around the mother's pinky. Her eyes are lamps as her neck arches and fins flutter in the steady current of the sea.