Fiction: The Strange Tale of Freddy the Fish
Below is a children’s tale that I wrote when I was hoping to publish more titles after The Legend of the Flying Hotdog came out. My nephew Bret was a little tyke at the time and his mother told me about the strange disappearance of his goldfish. They woke up one morning and discovered that Freddy was missing from his bowl. They looked everywhere but couldn’t find him. I wrote this fantasy about where he might have gone, which I fortunately finished before poor Freddy was found stuck to Bret’s blanket, completely desiccated and no longer with us. Apparently goldfish sometimes leap out of their bowls and they missed Freddy in their search. Needless to say, I prefer the fantasy version of the little guy’s fate.
As with all my children’s stories, I wrote this one in hopes that adults would enjoy it as well. And like my other stories, this one is fanciful, playful, and highly visual. There are some scenes where I would have loved to see an artist’s interpretation, but it never found a home and unfortunately, I don’t draw or paint. But you can use your mind’s eye to furnish your own illustrations :)
THE STRANGE CASE OF FREDDY THE FISH
by
Celeste White ©
Once upon a time, at a very special fair in a very special town, a little boy won a goldfish. Now, this goldfish was quite special, too, but you couldn’t tell just by looking at him. Darting about in the clear, water-filled bag that bulged on the shelf of the carnival booth, Freddy looked just like any other fish. He was especially pretty, perhaps, with a sheen to his golden scales that seemed otherworldly in the Japanese lantern light. But nothing about Freddy suggested the remarkable events that were about to take place.
Except, that is, for one thing. Bret had an odd feeling as he and his family approached the booth. A dancing wind jounced a nearby lantern, causing the light to fall suddenly upon Freddy, gilding him the most glorious gold that Bret had ever seen.
He gripped his ticket and stepped up to the booth. “I want to play,” he told the ticket-taker. And the woman handed him three golden coins just the color of Freddy as he flickered in the bouncing light.
“Drop ’em through the water in this tank, see if you can get all three of ’em to land in that little glass cup there,” the woman said. “It may look easy, but it’s not, so aim with care.”
Bret held his breath and dropped his first coin. It fluttered through the water like some live thing. And like some living thing, it dove straight for the glass cup.
“Not bad,” said the ticket-taker, a bit taken aback.
Bret let go a second coin, which behaved exactly like the first, and then a third one, which plummeted into the cup like a stone.
The woman must have known somehow which fish Bret wanted. For when she turned to give him one, she scooped up the bag with Freddy in it. Freddy nestled in Bret's lap the entire ride to the house. And when the family arrived home, Bret’s father found a beautiful glass bowl for Freddy to live in.
Bret loved Freddy. He knew that some people considered a fish a boring pet, but Bret loved to watch him flash and dart through the water when sunlight filtered through the bowl. He loved to see him at rest, as even then his delicate silvery gills fluttered back and forth, back and forth. He loved to feed Freddy, as Freddy would come rushing up to nip and bump at Bret’s fingers when he sprinkled the small flakes into the water.
One morning, however, as Bret came dancing down the stairs to feed his pet, Freddy was nowhere to be seen. He was not in the bowl, he was not on the table. He was not on the floor, he was not on the window ledge. A thorough search by his entire family revealed that he was not, in fact, anywhere. Freddy had simply vanished.
Bret felt terrible. Not only was Freddy his very first pet, he had been a good buddy, too. With tears and a heavy heart, Bret cleaned out the fish bowl and put it away.
But that night, he fell asleep to the most amazing dream.
He dreamed about an underwater circus. Graceful fronds of seaweed had woven themselves into a magnificent big top circus tent, and every manner of sea creature was filing into the open doors. Hermit crabs scuttled, starfish tiptoed ponderously on their tube feet, schools of squid squirted their way into the tent.
Inside, an even more amazing sight greeted Bret as he dreamed. The bleachers were packed with more sea animals: sea fans furled and unfurled their lacy tentacles in excitement, octopuses glided about on their snaking arms, looking for the absolute best vantage point. Scallops flittered about like enchanted castanets until they settled to watch the circus with all eighteen of their baby blue eyes.
But down on the floor was the most enchanting sight of all. In ring one, a polka-dotted trigger fish tamed a tiger shark, brandishing a sponge and backing the shark up some coral stair steps. In ring two, clown fish performed silly antics, parading about with unbecoming hats on their heads, stealing them from one another, and trying to wear as many hats as possible. The sea urchins in the crowd found this particularly amusing. In fact, one bold sea urchin wandered into the ring, where he was rewarded by having hats stuck to every one of his spines. When he lumbered back to join his delighted friends, he resembled a hat rack at a popular lunch spot.
But most incredible of all was the trapeze artist in the third ring. This fish performed aquatic acrobatics that Bret had never even imagined before. This fish tumbled through the water so fast he looked like a blur—three … four … five … six somersaults he tossed off before clomping triumphantly onto the trapeze bar with his little fish teeth. It was only then that Bret recognized him. Why, it was Freddy! Freddy the Magnificent, proclaimed the sandwich board below in the ring. Freddy is magnificent! thought Bret, his heart swelling in pride. And there the dream ended. But when Bret roused himself from sleep the next morning, he awoke with an idea.
He took Freddy’s bowl out and filled it with fresh, clean water. Then he placed it on the table where it had rested before, positioning the bowl so that sunshine poured through it the whole day long. Arcs and oblongs of bright light splashed all over the walls and floors.
And that night, Bret fell asleep to another fantastic dream. This time, he dreamed about an underwater frontier town. It seemed as if an old shipwreck had been dismantled and built into Western storefronts, complete with a wooden sidewalk. Tinkly music drifted out of the saloon, alewives bustled down the boardwalk with a prim, bulldoggish air, sea horses curled and uncurled their tails around wooden hitches scattered around town. Sea anemones nodded sleepily on porch swings. Everything seemed peaceful and orderly in this frontier town.
Except for the saloon.
Inside the saloon, a showdown was brewing. A big shrimp and a small lionfish were glaring at each other across a poker table, and the shrimp had an itchy trigger finger. Even now, one of its skinny little swimmerettes was edging towards its holster. Bret held his breath in alarm.
Suddenly, the double doors to the saloon burst open, and in darted the sheriff, a handsome gold fish with a gleaming silver holster, a dashing purple hat, and a tiny red sea star clinging to his chest. This time, Bret recognized him right away.
“Now you hold it right there, you low-down, stalk-eyed, yellow-bellied mud-eater, you,” Freddy shouted—or perhaps bubbled would be a better word.
So excited was Bret by this new development, he propelled himself right out of the dream and woke up with a start. That afternoon, he went to the pet shop and bought a little bitty fort to put in Freddy's bowl. He also bought a small, waving plant to stand beside the door to the fort.
And the next night, he had yet another remarkable dream. In this dream, a sleek craft came swooping up out of a small lake in a remote, lonely location, in the dark, wee hours of the morning. It looked very much like a flying silver saucer with a lighted ring of windows circling the entire rim. Looking closer, Bret could see that the craft was filled with water, and that Freddy jauntily manned the controls with his tail and fins.
Perhaps he had a specific destination in mind, or perhaps he was attracted by the lights on the horizon—Bret could not be sure—but Freddy headed for a large, bright, busy city. There the little fish puttered serenely through the rows and columns of tall, tall buildings, many of their windows blazing, even at this hour. No one seemed to notice the motoring craft—no one, that is, until an elderly gentleman in an attractive set of turquoise silk pajamas came sauntering out onto his thirtieth floor balcony. Freddy came cruising by at just that instant, and Freddy and the gentleman locked eyes for a brief moment, the man’s mouth forming a perfect “O” of astonishment. (“UFO sighted in San Francisco!” blared the tabloids the next morning; “And the aliens look like goldfish!”) But that night, Freddy just continued on at his leisurely pace until he reached the outskirts of town. And there he disappeared into the darkness.
Bret couldn't say why, but he had the strongest feeling that Freddy was headed his way. So the minute the sun popped over the horizon the next morning, Bret rushed downstairs and raced over to the fish bowl. He grasped the bowl and peered inside and let out a whoop that roused the entire house. For there, gold scales winking in the early sunlight, was Freddy, gently fanning the water with his fins.
No one could explain it, of course, though they tried and tried. Bret’s mother remained convinced that his father had bought another goldfish and slipped it into the bowl overnight, though he steadfastly denied it. For his part, he felt sure that Bret’s mother had performed the deed and refused to own up. But Bret knew there was only one Freddy.
Weeks later, when Bret was saying good night to Freddy, he sensed from the little fish's darting about that his pal was feeling restless. He wondered if perhaps it was time for more adventures, time for his pal to go skipping the light fantastic. And that night, Bret dreamed about a beautiful ship made entirely of mother-of-pearl. He dreamed that it glided up silently to his window and waited, filling its milky sails with silvery golden moonbeams.
THE END
Above: This handsome photograph of a goldfish was obtained from Wikipedia Commons, courtesy of photographer úlfhams_víkingur, http://flickr.com/photos/24710622@N05/3377304397.
Monday, June 28, 2010