Fiction: Group 3
reaching the beach. I stopped in my tracks. One dolphin lay on the sand, its smooth skin a soft shell-pink
color, its dorsal fin coated with soft grey speckles.
“NO!” I screamed. Tears streamed down my face. The creature was unmoving, a trickle of dark blood
bleeding into the wet sand. I had to do something. I had to tell someone.
“If someone doesn’t do something, it will be too late.” My dolphin had said. And that was what I had to do.
