A place called Perspective.

In a blue, shabby building, penguins draped themselves over plastic rocks, making ripples with their fin tips as if contemplating life. Children knocked on the windows. Why aren’t they swimming?
The penguins’ apathy followed me across the boulevard where I looked out at sea. People resembling red sores sizzled. The sea pulled its hands back then launched its body forward, over and over, as if trying to escape the inferno.
Heat rose from the sand in waves as I clocked the shadow in my peripheral vision. It was huge-bodied with wings either side, gliding over the rippling sea. Beyond the playing children, and beyond the bathing adults, the shadow emerged from the water like a boil.
A boneless giant broke the surface of the water, and skidded across the beach. The sand in its trail gave the impression of a comet. On her side, she laid still, eyes as big as footballs.
In a moment, the world stood still. A collective of eyes grew round in astonishment. A wave crashed, breaking the silence. The crowds took a unified gasp at the trespasser.
Then the potential was realised. All those likes. All those re-tweets.
They strode backwards towards the creature, holding out phones like mirrors. Snap after snap, they grew more attached, getting close enough to touch her.
I walked away; clinging onto the image of the whale breaking the surface. People shoveled battered fish into their mouths. White flesh, sucked into puckered lips, whilst they pointed their fingers at the whale with outrage.
Walking briskly I noticed a meandering path to my right, leading away from the beach. I took it. It wound tightly downwards, giving the feeling of sinking. I came onto level ground. The view was narrow; shadowed by greenery on one side and looming buildings in a row on the other. The noise of the crowds had gone; I reveled in the silence of what appeared to be a Gothic lane.
The lopsided row of curious houses grabbed my attention. The first was dome-shaped, made of tinny walls, as if it were a huge can of beans. The second – like a caravan soldered to the earth – had the impression of being merely a room with a front door. The third resembled a three tier wedding cake, stacked haphazardly. The last was made entirely of train doors, forced together like an ill-fitting jigsaw.
I stood there as long as it took to realise; we are the ugly creatures from the nightmarish above, whose sea of air waits for any fish to fall in, with cameras a plenty and compassion a lacking.