The men took a break at dawn. They sat at various points along the oceanfront, drinking from bright thermoses and blowing on their hands. The morning was clear and crisp. One of the men kept looking over at a small figure perched on the railing nearby. She wore a thin purple jumper and a mop of black curls. He wandered down the path and stopped next to her. She didn’t look around.
He leant against the railing with a sigh. A few metres away, an old man with papery lips sucked on a cigarette. He looked as though he might catch alight. The child didn’t seem to notice either of them. She looked expressionlessly at the water. Her nose was streaming.
“Cold, isn’t it?”
The girl didn’t look up.
The man slid a parcel onto her lap. When she didn’t respond, he gently folded pack the paper to show her the silver fish.
“This one swam here all the way from California. Had a big family there – three brothers called Andy, Bob and Larry. He’s called Pete.”
A small, white finger traced the lines of the dead fish’s tail.
“Pete’s a musical fish, too. He sang all the time he was swimming over here. Scared a lot of sailors.”
“What did he sing?”
“Oh…The Wiggles.”
“Which one?”
“The one about a lot of wiggling.”
Her eyelids flickered. The little face looked pinched and blotchy.
“Pete reckons you’re an awfully little fish to be here by yourself. Did you come from California too?”
She shook her head.
“Africa?”
She pointed to the housing development behind them.
“Ah.”
He took off his thick jacket and wrapped it around the narrow, unresponsive shoulders. They sat companionably and watched a group of squabbling seagulls fight for a dropped sandwich. The other men were packing up and wandering back to the docks.
“You better go home and get some breakfast, hey?”
She nodded.
“Want me to take you?”
She slithered off the railing and waddled awkwardly for a few metres, gathering the coat about her like a robe. She turned and looked at him, eyes anxious.
“Pete?”
The man smiled and handed her the fishy bundle.
“Nice talking to ya.”
She smiled back and wiped her nose on the jacket. He watched her across the street and through a rusty door. A little hand waved at him.
The old man with the cigarette hawked and spat into the water.
“Back to work, then.”
“Yeah, with you in a tick, Dad.”
The old man pursed his paper lips and studied his son.
“Never heard ya talk so much in me life.”
Elaine van Dyk
This is a really beautiful, sensitive story. I felt like a privileged witness to a special moment!
Mikey79
You write dialogue so well, nice work..
Cailean
I like how you’ve sort of reverse anthromorphosized the little girl. At least, I can see there’s some similarities to the little girl and the fish, which I think is intimated in the title. You’ve not fallen into the trap of overdetailing and the piece has “punch”; impact in its brevity. If you can say something with one word instead of five, it’s generally better – to avoid belabouring the point and get lost in words for words’ sake. I like your style; you still keep a connection without getting bogged down. It’s unique while still seeming somewhat artfully austere and minimalist. It’s not so much a stark environment but something that doesn’t need a lot of gaudy glitz to bring attention to itself – it stands by itself on simpler merits. Good show.
Joanne Schoenwald
I loved this. It was like watching a butterfly come and land on my hand, stay for a moment and then fly away. Really beautiful. Well done.
aw14
Hi! I thought this was beautiful—restrained and poignant. Well done. Thanks for your comments on my work.
craig scutt
Don’t think I can add to what’s already been said except to say I enjoyed this a lot :)
RoseRed
I enjoyed your story very much. It was simple, yet spoke volumes. Thank you for sharing it.
pinkelephant
Thankyou everyone! I couldn’t be happier with how supportive and inspiring this community is. I’m here to stay : )
AbyssalSoul
I’m not sure I still have enough knowledge regarding poetic and literacy in english but I know how to reckon something well-written (praise my editing career lol), nice and… surprisingly full of feeling and a ‘something’ (it’s hard for me to find the words and THAT is something they can’t teach you at Univ), an ‘aura’. Ok, I’m having trouble at making a decent comment but I must say that what I just read was beautiful. Seriously, good work.
Elaine van Dyk
Another in the shortlist!! I’ll have to see what I can do with this one now…............ Well done pinkelephant!
RoseRed
Beautiful story, congrats on the shortlisting pinkelephant.
Elaine van Dyk
Another call for congratulations! Another fabulous story!
Michael Douglass
Congrats Vi!
David Haviland
Congrats, a spellbinding story. Has a real magic feel to it.
Damian
That was a nice moment, I enjoyed the dialogue.
Phil Eckert
lovely piece… you write so well. Don’t stop….
Holly Ringland
I was there, in this, next to Pete and the mop of black curls. I needed this escapsim today, more than my morning coffee. Thank you :)
Rex Inkpen
a delightful stage you have set here; vivid, mysterious and enticing