Glass Fish

Hey, this is for the story contest for Queen_Super_Max. I love the title. Hope it's not too lame. :(

Chapter 1

The goldfish was tired. It seemed he always was, but then, he had a good reason. His home was too small, the water always tasting foul. Soggy food. The cat would sometimes make a leap at him, once tipping his bowl over completely. He was lucky there was a human to help him nearby. And he was alone, alone and feeling insane with boredom. Day after day was the same. At least, until Glass Fish came.

He knew that was her name because it said so, right underneath her fin. Glass Fish. It was true that he couldn't actually read the pesky humanoid language, but he imagined that was what the cursive letters, looking like tangled seaweed to his eyes, spelled.

He had been swimming around, doing nothing as usual, when he felt something large an ominous over his bowl. He looked up, quite alarmed, to see a hand descending into his domain. It didn't actually enter the water, but it did drop something else in. The goldfish swam nervously up to it.

It was another fish. Its perfect face stared back at him, eyes unmoving in an untouchable manner, no mundane bubbles protruding from its lips. Its body was clear, but molded beautifully. It was perfect.

And the goldfish fell in love with it.

And so each day became a new one. He would stare at it at first, thinking of making the introduction, but then deciding it to be too bold. But eventually he got frustrated with the constant silence, his unwillingness to swim freely lest it disturb Glass Fish. So he struck up a conversation, and though it was rather quiet on Glass Fish's part, he still thought it was wonderful. These conversations became a natural part of his life.

Then, one day, seized with sudden feelings, he stopped in the middle of a sentence and kissed Glass Fish. She-he determined that it was probably a she-didn't move, and he took it as consent. So he kept kissing her, but only when they were alone. Never had he craved solitude so much. It gave him a warm glow, to think of their secret romance.

But it soon changed.

It was the cat's fault. It was an ugly thing with a squashed face, and it was angry at the goldfish's new happiness. So when the house was dark and the humans were quiet, it made a pounce. The bowl fell through the air and hit the floor, the glass making an awful shattering noise against the floor. The goldfish was out of water.

He flopped around, panicking, trying to twist himself around to see his lover's face. But something dreadful had happened. Her face was smashed. In fact, her whole body was. There was nothing left of her but her twisted corpse.

That was most likely why he didn't put up a struggle when the cat put its paw on his body, tossed him in the air, and caught him with its mouth. All he could think of was Glass Fish's face as he too disappeared.


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