Shark Attack at Straya Bay

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Only an hour or so remained
until the sun rose fully over the eastern horizon
and Sean, the great white wereshark,
would regain his human form and report to duty
at the lifeguard tower at Straya Bay.

Until then, though, he was planning to enjoy
every minute of this early morning swim.
He cut through the dark water with barely a ripple,
allowing his dorsal fin to sink beneath the waves.

“It’s Sean the shark!” his little sisters used to sing
to the tune of the Shaun the Sheep theme song.
“It’s Sean the shark!
He always swims about alone and in the dark!
Keep it in miiiind
he’s one of a kiiiiiiiiiind!
Oh, life’s a lark with Sean the shark!”

He grinned at the memory
and flicked his tail.
Like Dad and Pop before him,
he patrolled the beaches along this stretch of coast.
Regular elasmobranchii gave a wide berth
to what they apparently considered
the terror of the local seas,
and the area hadn’t seen a shark attack
since the war.

Before the war, however,
was another story, and not one
that the family liked to dwell on.
Great-granddad had taken great pleasure
in taking great chunks
out of swimmers, and, after evading
every expedition assembled to bring him down,
had spent the war in the South China Sea.
By all accounts, he’d enjoyed himself to the fullest
among the shipwrecked sailors,

but then a sea mine had done
what the would-be sharkslayers of the Gold Coast couldn’t,
and he’d never returned home.

“Good riddance,” Pop had always said.
“And let me tell you, Sean,
if I ever catch you biting a human…”

Nothing, thought Paislynn
as she stripped down on the sand,
could beat early morning at Straya Bay.
Gold and pink streaked the eastern sky
while the dark waters promised relief,
at least temporarily,
from the vicissitudes that the rest of the day would bring.
Making rent, finding money to fix the car,
the temper tantrums of her boss from hell —
none of those things mattered
beneath the waves.

Another benefit of the ungodly hour:
skinny dipping. She waded out into the surf
wearing only her birthday suit. Her breasts,
freed from the confinement of her bra and t-shirt,
bounced with enthusiasm
as she plunged into the surf
and began her circuit of the bay.