The sensation of being in a glass bottle submerged in water that was constantly moving and making him crash against the walls that kept him enclosed was not at all comfortable. He had air and could breathe, but he knew he had to get out of there.
What am I doing here in this place?, and when did I get here? He only remembered a big hand covering him with a mesh.
And then everything was focused on finding a way to escape. His strength was such that with all his energy he tried to reach the lid of the bottle in those moments in which the bottle was kept in a horizontal position, and this allowed him to crawl. But when he came within a few millimeters of his goal... he fell irremediably to the bottom.
Eventually his strength began to run out and his body found it hard to hold on to the walls. I'm not going to give up, I'm made to withstand these blows, he thought as he swung.
"Carlos Miguel! What is this bottle doing in the bathtub?" The jet was open and there were bubbles in the water.
The twelve-year-old boy, thin with his tousled hair covering his eyes, ran to the bathroom door shouting at his mother.
"Careful mother, don't touch her. It's one of my specimens. I'm doing an experiment".
"But son! How long are you going to keep that bottle in there? Your father is about to arrive, and he's going to take a bath for sure.
"Just a few more minutes. It's very important". His gaze was fixed on the bottle and his breathing sounded agitated.
"And on second thought, I think the one who needs to take a bath urgently is you. You're wet and muddy from head to toe. Where were you, son?"
"In the swamp, mother. I was looking for things. It's a very interesting place, you should come with me one day. You'll be amused". A smirk revealed his big teeth. He knew that his mother was very bothered by the dirty... she was a fanatic of cleanliness.
"Carlos, you know very well that I hate that swamp, it should be dried. I'm going to propose it to the mayor. It's a danger for people. They can get lost. Remember what happened to the Gonzalez's son. They never managed to find him".
"Don't do that, Mother! You have no right to end the life of the swamp". His eyes narrowed, the smile on his lips had turned into a grimace, and his hands clenched into a fist in a gesture of defiance.
"You have a great imagination, son". His mother pulled him to her, hugging him.
"It's true, mother, and I will prove it to you". He got out of the arms that wrapped around him and ran to the bathtub to get the bottle. He realized instantly that his specimen was not there. He had managed to escape. Of course now he understood...his mother had turned off the water and thus stopped the movement, and he had managed to reach the stopper and pushed.
No matter, he thought. He had proven that these swamp creatures were strong and intelligent. His experiment had been a success. He would be back to look for other specimens.
"Come on, son, get out of those clothes and take a bath. I'll get you a towel".
In the swamp, on a branch of elderberry, a phosphorescent green beetle, with three pairs of hairy legs, was trying to straighten its long jaws, a bit damaged by the effort of getting out of the bottle.
This time he had been very lucky, he couldn't get caught again by that boy who prowled around there every afternoon.
