Letters For Delphi
Chino Hills, CA
2020, Senior, Creative Writing
My Dearest Delphi,
As I write, I cannot help but smile. It has been long since I’ve written, and even longer since you’ve visited, but as my quill curves along parchment, my thoughts of you, my daughter, are as clear as my waters.
Earlier, among the golden sand, I spotted a jewel you left behind. A sharp shard, glittering when reflected. You called it… glass. With it, I remembered that ember in your eyes. A raging fire hotter than any steaming ocean vent. You said you’d rule the land. I remember the nimbleness in your fingers as you tied string to wood, attached pulleys to metal, and giggled in wondrous glee, soaring high and somehow touching the sky.
I’m so happy for you darling. I admit, my oceans are lonelier, but they are vast. The other children still bring my life joy.
Take care. Write back soon!
***
Her narrowed eyes glanced briefly across the letter, scanning too fast to truly be reading. As they skimmed, her eyes continued off the page, wandering back to her desk, covered in piles of drafts and sketched blueprints of her inventions. Her thin fingers folded the letter and quietly pushed it under the other papers.
She sent a last smiling thought to Mother, then sat down at her desk and drew, a plastic pencil firmly in her hand. She had things to create. The future was calling.
She’d write back later.
***
My Dearest Delphi,
How are you, my daughter? Your letter of reply never arrived, so my heart sank with worry. That fear melted away when I peered out of my rolling waves, and towards the horizons.
I can see your shining towers, piercing towards the heavens. They sparkle against the sun, just like your eyes did, blazing beacons of your handiwork. Standing alongside mighty metal mounds that breathe like they’re alive. That shake the earth and send ripples down my streams… I’m proud of you. You’ve been so busy, I can see.
My gardens are still growing as well! Albeit, not as fast as they used to. The humble coral still lights my seas with their radiant swatches, earnest workers who smile in endless hues. They paint my seafloors in fuchsia, lime, and aquamarine, standing as homes for the others.
I do not tell them, but I know their colonies are growing brittle. My seas have been changing lately. More acidic, making it harder for the marching hermit crabs you once adored to find their food… You wouldn’t happen to know why, would you darling? Never mind that…
The bears up north still guard the statues I carved for you. Do you remember them? The flowing glacial curves and jagged forms of the ice? I’ve heard they’re warming… Would you be able to check on them, Delphi? I’d love for you to gaze upon my glaciers again.
When you find time, write back soon. I miss you.
***
She’d seen the gleam in the investor’s eyes when she’d laid out her designs. Intricate mechanical marvels that could make trains move like bullets. Schemes that could churn minerals into versatile polymers… with a few tiny consequences. Burning so much fuel would increase output of fumes, which might raise atmospheric temperatures. The investors shushed those concerns though, and by following suit, she rose through the ranks. Her hard work was finally paying off, as just outside, her designs were beginning to appear: factories, towers, and more.
She speed-read Mother’s letter. Something eccentric about crabs and glaciers. Delphi chuckled, shoving the parchment down a drawer. Mother did have a point about visiting the north. She’d heard rumors the melting ice revealed spots for drilling oil.
She’d write back tomorrow.
***
My Dearest Delphi,
As much as I love the sun, summer has overstayed. Is it hot where you live, my daughter? Below the waves, the air we breathe feels… suffocating. When I take it in, it hitches upon my throat, almost hooking the pipes of my lungs. The fish tell me that they experienced the same.
… I think your creations are… affecting me, darling. Ever since your rusting spires and growling metal hives began to leak into my seas, wheeze into the air, I’ve felt nauseous and tense. Unbalanced. My legs are weak, and I’m beginning to stagger, my feet mis-stepping, sending torrents through your streets. I’m sorry. It’s harder to control these days.
I know you must keep working. It’s who you are… but please. I’m not sure how much more I can take. And I don’t know how much I have left to give. I need to hear from you.
Please write back soon Delphi.
***
When the view was this breathtaking, she knew she’d succeeded. Looking south, ancient trees laid down their bones, making way for acres of tilled earth. Gazing east, her citadels rose from the earth, bustling swarms of scholars and inventors. To the north, her drills carved through ice and stone, collecting that precious oil the earth held hidden.
She grimaced as she glanced westward. The oceans swelled, and black clouds approached in the distance. She cursed, recalling the storms that were becoming more frequent. Nevertheless, they were minuscule setbacks.
She triumphantly placed her arms upon her desk, her elbow hitting a closed envelope, pushing it off to the floor.
She’d write back one day.
***
Delphi,
My heart burns as oil runs through my veins. My lungs are scarred and bruised by the air your machines pumped into me. The other children lay among the catacombs of crumbling coral and choke on the acidic waters they once thrived in. Good luck with your sprawling cities. Good luck with your future. I gave everything I had for you.
I’m heading north. Maybe I can see the statues I carved for you before they begin to boil the flesh of my polar bears.
Goodbye, my child.
***
She’d opened the letter smiling, remembering her mother’s dramatic tone and whimsical sea creatures. But her grin shattered as the letter she pulled out was soaked, torn, and stained with grime. As she read, her body shook, and she raced onto a speeding train that brought her to the westward beaches.
There, she stared out at unrecognizable surroundings. She wanted to wake up. This had to be a cruel nightmare. The air was humid, hot, and sickly. Metal, plastic, and glass mingled with the sand, and tears welled at her eyes as she saw the beached remains of rotting animals being brought in by the tides of oily seawater.
For a moment, she shook her head in denial. This isn’t my fault.
Further down the shore, her factories churned the waters, mixed in chemicals, and blasted pollutants out of their smoke stacks. Shame filled her heart, and for many long moments, she sat there breathing in the byproducts of her “progress.”
She clutched the last letter she’d received. She’d hurt her mother so much, but there was still time. The brilliant fire in her eyes relit itself as images flashed across her mind. Ideas of biodegradable polymers, solar-powered factories, conservation initiatives, and a million other plans.
She had entire cities of resources to use. She’d plan and create solutions. She’d show them all what was happening. She’d break apart the sickness with the same ferocity she’d built it with.
But before she returned to the workshops, before she began to breathe new life into the oceans she’d poisoned, Delphi sat down beside the seaside, and began to write a letter back.
Works Cited
https://climatechange.lta.org/whlc-piping plovers/#:~:text=Climate%20change%2Dinduced%20sea%20level,the%20United%20States%20federal%20government.
https://www.epa.gov/climate-indicators/climate-change-indicators-ocean-acidity
https://www.massaudubon.org/our-conservation-work/climate-change/effects-of-climate-change/on-wildlife/marine-life
Global Warming Is Hitting Ocean Species Hardest, Including Fish Relied on for Food
Crabby but crabtivating: hermit crabs and ocean acidification
Reflection
Reflection
One of the most amazing things about humanity is its ability to invent. With resources that we find, we defy expectations through technology. Air travel is commonplace, mass production of food is nearly a modern ubiquity, and millions have instant access to information. Yet with “innovation” comes the staining of environments we exploit, which I expressed through the actions of Delphi: intelligent, yet apathetic. All of civilization has relied on oceans for food, travel, and oxygen, yet we take them for granted, which I felt could be perfectly expressed using unrequited letters from our mother: the oceans. I’m no stranger to the sin of ignorance. I’ve caught myself acting wastefully, but this contest has opened my eyes to how deadly humankind’s “progress” is becoming. I’ve used this prose as an opportunity to re-educate myself on the valuable role we as humans must play if we want to protect the oceans and our futures. I want to continue learning about humankind’s impact on nature, and find ways to recycle, conserve, and protest in the future. While my prose’s protagonist is named Delphi, there are no “Oracles” in real life to prophesize the tragedies climate change will cause, except those of us who can and will spread the word of what is already happening at sea. The “prophecy” is already in front of us, its words written in the bleached corals and dying vaquita. Let’s heed its warnings and use our innovative spirit to protect these magnificent creatures instead.