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July 5, 2003 Every now and then we need a break from the humdrum of serious and thought-provoking stories. While all stories have their place we tend to need more realism in our books rather than using it as a place to escape to. I dont know about anyone else but I personally love to read to somewhat get away from my existence here in the real world. Occasionally I dabble in a work called irreal fiction which is becoming a very popular genre to read. It is reminiscent of Lewis Carroll and authors who want to take you somewhere that you cant go, reading about people you couldnt care less about. All in all its a break for the mind and a pause for the imagination. Dont forget you have an imagination and make sure you use it once in a while. The real world isnt that fun, but fantasy is forever. TRIBAL FISH As the front door slammed shut, three goldfish swam in circles, completing a rain dance ritual. Outside dark looming clouds approached the house made of sticks and as the lightning streaked its jagged rage, the small yet sudden storm did complete damage. Giving high fin fives, the fish tasted their first breath of freedom. Minutes later a large forest animal smelled a feast. Following its highly reputable snout, to the fishbowl it slinked. At seeing this incredible beast, the fish threw a metal ring from inside their watery hut and it landed upon the beasts antler. Again they did a rain dance, moving swift and fierce. The animal watched as it lacked the interest in doing anything else and suddenly the jagged rage infused the metal ring, roasting the animal into a delectable meal. As they stood on each others shoulders, the fish on top was able to grab a few sticks and they each took one, to use as oars. They traveled only a few inches when a snarling bear came wandering, smelling fresh cooked meat. Saliva dripped from its mouth, fueling his hunger fast. The fish watched as the bear engulfed the entire meal and left. Again they oared their way for several hours. The owner of the home came back with a large bundle of fresh caught trout slung around his shoulder. His mouth opened wide as he saw his home was nothing but firewood. For a few moments he sat upon the ground, unbelieving his luck. Looking around he noticed even his fish had bit the dust and he mourned heavily. Realizing night would be approaching soon he set off to find shelter for the night. Moments later he tripped and fell to his knees. As he searched for the source of his trip, he eyed a fishbowl with three fish, looking remarkably familiar to the ones he had lost in the sudden and tragic fire. The three goldfish were angered by their owners disregard for their friends and brothers. Eyeing the five trout that hung from his shoulder, they formed a circle and made plans. While the man was walking towards the fishbowl, a rain of sticks came out at him, smacking him in the face. One stick hit him in the eye and cried out. I have a sliver in my eye, I cant see anything. The fish snickered and danced about. One trout still wriggled, not yet dead, trying desperately to stay alive. The three fish panicked. Here was their chance to save a life! They placed miniature-sized replicas of fishbowls upon their heads to continue breathing out of the water. One by one they hopped out and gathered around the surviving trout. Untying its body they dragged it in and dunked its head into their home. As soon as the fish revived, it jumped out and formed into three goldfish, looking ever so pretty with long lashes and ruby red lips. They kissed the lips of their rescuers and all jumped into the fishbowl. Together they performed a special rain dance, one that would enlist such torrential rains it would create a flood. Holding hands, they danced about, singing out words that rhymed in Finnish. As the owner of the fish cried out he couldnt see out of one eye, rain plummeted to the ground and whisked him away into a cave of a bear. The bear cheered as his wish for a scrumptious dessert before hibernation came rushing in with water to wash it down with. Rain continued on and flooded the whole area, providing a temporary river for the fish to sail down in their glass bowl. After several hours they had sailed to the open waters of freedom and the fishbowl tipped over. Quickly they swam about, heading for new homes to grow old together. ------------ About the author: Nancy Jackson is a full time author and poet with works in Literati, Twilight Times, Anotherealm, Sonny World, and various anthologies. Her pasttimes include spending time with her loved ones, drinking wine, and lots of writing! Email Nancy Jackson: coryann93@yahoo.com Comment on this column in the forum. ------------ |
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