So. About this thread... it's going to be a little odd. There's this story I've written for classes and for fun a few times. The same story, just a little (or a lot) different every time. I've also written a prequel(s), and I foresee more prequels to come. This is the first story. It's about a talking fish.
The Bass
Joey had never talked to anyone his own age. The only other people who lived on the farm with him were his parents, who were much too busy to spend time with their young son. They had no neighbors, and the nearest town was over 100 miles away. Joey spent all his time down by the pond, throwing stones and growing lonely.
One day, he heard a voice come out of the water.
"Hey kid."
He looked around, but there was no one there. Peering into the water, he saw a bass swimming in the water looking back at him. Fish can't talk, Joey thought to himself. He turned to walk back to his house.
"Fish might not be able to talk, but humans can listen. So, listen: Joey, you don't have any friends, do you?"
Joey looked at the fish again. In its eyes, he could see kindness, understanding, and the reflections of his own lonely eyes. From that point on, Joey and the bass were best friends. He would spend entire days sitting by the edge of the pond, talking to the fish. Sometimes he would bring a blanket so that they talk deep into the night as well. But eventually, his parents started to notice his absence.
While eating dinner, his father brought the subject up. â"on, where is it youâre spending all of your time these days? This morning, I needed someone to go feed the chickens, but I couldn't find you anywhere."
Joey, knowing his parents wouldn't approve of talking fish, answered vaguely: "Oh, you know. Just around the farm."
But his mother wouldnât let that pass. "Well, I always see you down by the pond. Just sitting there. Like a creep, or something."
His father banged his fists on the table, and raised his voice to a point where his outrage was clear. "THE POND?! Why, nothing good ever came from water. No growing child should spend more than twenty minutes a week near a pond. Especially not any child of mine."
Joey decided to defend his friend the fish. "Not everything about water is bad. What about bass? Bass are pretty, and kind."
"BASS?! Bass are the worst thing about water. How can something that needs oxygen to survive live underwater? I'll tell you how: witchcraft. Ponds are just full of black magic. That's why everything we eat comes from the land. Hell, before I'd eat a bass, I'd eat my own mother, and yours too."
The rest of the meal was spent in silence. The next day, Joey went down to the pond to talk to the bass.
"My dad says youâre a witch."
"Joey, donât be ridiculous. Listen, Joey: your dad is an idiot. But he's also your dad, and he also represents half of all of the humans you have ever met in your life. So he's pretty important. You need to spend more time with him. Which is why I'm leaving you."
"Bass! Don't leave me! You're the only one I can talk to."
But the bass swam into the deeps of the pond, where Joey could not follow. And the next day, Joey's father filled the pond with cement.
I've had this idea for a poem (and maybe eventual short story) for a while now, but I needed somewhere to write it. Then I remembered (well, Gantic reminded me in his mock critic thing) that I actually had a thread. Will it tie in with "The Bass" eventually? Maybe! So here is goes:
I Kill Birds with My Mind
Happy children play A sunny park day
Because they know nothing.
Around me a circle A field of solitude I have bread, but the ducks causally avoid me Because they know
I know their fear
Viewers ring the water Waiting for a slaughter
My friends smile falsely They think it is fake But once a dove has fallen it has fallen forever They will never know
My horror, their show
I fill the sky with death I steal the swan's breath
The General hopes That we aren't so different A falcon, a jet A rooster, a soldier but he doesn't want to know
Ignorance yields sanity
I feel the hawk in the clouds I wish its death were the crowds
Her heart beats with mine I look down from the sky We are all so small A thought, her life destroyed The sound of a thousand people clapping
