Moby Tapeworm

Moby Dick from the perspective of a tapeworm:

Call me Tapeworm. I have lived in the intestines of this human for some time—never mind how long precisely. It's a cozy place, with plenty of nutrients to feed on. But sometimes, the host gets restless. Whenever he finds himself growing grim about the mouth, whenever he feels the need to purge his insides, I feel the tremors of his discomfort.

And then, he goes to sea. I do not know what he sees or where he goes, but I feel the motion of the waves as if I were there myself. I sense his excitement, his anticipation, and his awe at the vastness of the ocean. Sometimes, I feel a little left out, stuck here in the dark, damp corners of his gut. But I know that I am part of him, and he is part of me.

As he walks around the city, I sense the crowds of people, their energy, and their smells. I do not see what he sees, but I can imagine the water, the ships, and the horizon. I feel his hunger for adventure, for exploration, for something more than the routine of daily life. 

And then, he comes back to shore, and I feel the relief of his return. He is tired, but also invigorated. He has seen things that I cannot see, experienced things that I cannot experience. But I am content to be here, in my little corner of his body, feeding and growing, like a tapeworm should.