Imagine 2200, Grist’s climate fiction contest, recognizes stories that envision the next 180 years of equitable climate progress, imagining intersectional worlds of abundance, adaptation, reform, and hope. Read the 2022 collection here. Or sign up for email updates to get new stories in your inbox.
I expected it to bite me. Mom said that it would. “First it will take your finger, then the rest of your hand,” she’d warned, but I didn’t trust her judgment. When she was young, Rwanda had no ocean, and no sea turtles. What she did have, was extreme paranoia.
As the turtle’s mouth started to close over my trembling finger, I feared she might’ve been right after all. Its serrated teeth brushed against my skin, but upon realizing that my finger was not synthetic material, it snapped its mouth back in a fashion that was strangely robotic for an organic creature. With a betrayed snort, the turtle hauled itself back towards the shoreline, where it began to pitifully dig around in the sand with its beak.
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