Struggle for Air

I am a fish taken from the stream, imposed upon a world of oxygen, sunshine and arid rock. I flop on a bed of stone and lose scales on the harsh edges of driftwood and broken slabs of shale. I leave my signature in odor and droplets of blood. I gasp for breath as I struggle, pondering when death will come, as I consider the pain of not breathing, as I worry over the probability of hungry predators roaming the shoreline in search of an easy meal. I eye the rushing water, mouth gaping, and yearn to be one with the current, but my body has failed: no strength left to rejoin me with the place I called home for so long. Perhaps I will make a stand, here, dying on this rock, and evolve in time to sprout legs and lungs, finding a new life altogether.