Animal Abuse In Flowers For Algernon

I intend to write a creative piece of writing about Animal abuse for human entertainment. Written in first-person, the reader will see through the perspective of a Killer Whale, who is torn from it’s ocean home and held captive in an unnatural environment. From my short piece of writing, I want people to understand the emotion these animals endure through being forced out of their ordinary. I want this piece to give us an insight to what Algernon went through in the novel “Flowers for Algernon” by Daniel Keyes.

Under the gentle sun of early April the sea was an unbroken calm, speckled with a million fragments of light - each one so tiny but together were intense in a way that was utterly beautiful. White spray erupts around us, as together we dance in celebration of the freedom we are so fortunate to have.
The pod head North in search of some unsuspecting schools of fish streaming along their invisible highways. Before we knew it we were being stalked and herded into three acre nets by blaring speedboat motors and deafening explosives. The six of us confined and desperate, futilely searching for an exit. Those fortuitous on the outside frantically cried at by those of us captured. Panic set in as we began attempting to lift ourselves over, in hope to be rescued.
With one last attempt
to escape and join my pod, we were lifted from our ocean homes. I took one final glimpse at my home, my family, my friends and most importantly my mother before being ripped from everything I ever knew. I was fixated on my mother who I could see felt helpless on the outside realising that she was losing me forever. I was torn from my mother that day.
Concrete walls now replace the cliffs, rocks, sand and caves of the vast and almost limitless ocean I called home. Suddenly, the four walls of my tank represent the new boundary of my world. There is no longer any passageways to explore. Gone, was the familiar sounds of the sea. Instead, there is the constant drone of filtration pumps. There are no waves, no currants and no fish to chase and hunt. Alone, captive against my will, I can barely swim in small circles. The emotional ravages of captivity take its toll and I float motionless at the surface of the water, far away from the expansive ocean in which we would swim hundreds of kilometres a day.
My stomach snarls and howls underwater and from it comes the not-so-subtle undertone of pain.
The lack of food causes me to do the best to distract my self in the confined space I’m in, to alleviate the torture of starvation. It comes in waves and seems as through my stomach is slowly digesting itself. Flashbacks take me to the schools of fish in my path back when I was granted with the freedom of the immense ocean. The last I remember, a human figure threw a single capelin fish into my now forever home two days ago, I am deprived of not only food but the competence of being a killer whale. The memories of home now torment me, as I come to cognisance that I will never live free
again.
I fall asleep dreaming about the beauty and serenity of my home, the sense of freedom and levity, the bliss it once brought me and then I wake up and realise that I am now just a powerless victim of blatant human entertainment.