A boy's story

I love plastic. Tall transparent bottles, thin colourful bags – they come in all shapes and sizes. Mama said the more we collect the more money the mean trader will hand out. So I work hard all day, alongside my brother, gathering the ones floating by the beach. If we are lucky, the tide washes them onto the bank. Easy peasy. Sometimes seagulls swoop in, squealing and squawking, thinking it's food. I shoo them away. It's not good for them.

In evenings, the mean trader burns some of it. It smells nasty. Makes me cough all night.

I asked brother once why so much plastic is around. He said people really like it and it's used everywhere. The ocean carries it thousands of miles across. He said we are very lucky because it gives us tons to pick up from.

But Mama told a different story. We are no average children. We are secret supermen and we have to help the fish. If we clean up everyday, we will help save the planet. That is why we don't go to school. We have bigger, important jobs.

We have to save the world.

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A Turtle's tale

I love plastic. I think that's what it's called – thin, colourful, transparent, rectangles and all sorts of stuff. Magical and sturdy. No matter how much you play with it, it never gets destroyed. The last one I found, I played for days. I even swallowed a few but they taste nasty I tell ya.

Dad warned me to stay away. He says Grandma died tangled in one. But how's that possible? Grandma must have been so massive compared to the little plastic.

Dad's too protective. It won't stop me though. I found this little pier where there are tons of them. A boy comes to collect them much to my annoyance but unless he's superman, there's no way he can take them all. When Dad goes to sleep, I'll go there for a little play.

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A seagull's spiel

I love plastic. From up above, it looks like thousands of jellyfish floating in the ocean. Helps spot the tangled fish easily. I swoop in, grab and go. When I can't untangle them, I swallow the plastic as well. The other day I nearly caught a turtle swimming by the pier.

Momma said one day the ocean would only be plastic. We'd need to move then. Or find another hunt. Maybe the Gods who created plastic will help us then. But Momma said they are mean. They fight over who can build bigger missiles. Meanwhile, they destroy the planet with one single use item.

If it's for single use then why make it strong enough to last centuries I say. But who listens to a mere bird squawk?

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Word Count : 499

Photos owned by National Geographic