Fishy tale

She had listened with rapt attention to her father’s stories, as they sat by the fire on dark stormy nights.  Her favourite one was about her mother.

“Why isn’t momma here?” she’d ask.

“She went back to the sea, child, that’s where she came from and that’s where she went” her father would say – always the same answer.

“Was she a mermaid?”

“No honey, she was a fish”

“What kind of fish?”

“A big shiny silvery one, with big lips!”

One morning by the docks, she saw a fisherman haul a big silvery fish onto the jetty, leaving it flopping around feebly on the rough wooden planks. Intrigued, she ran over to take a look at the creature.  Getting down on her hands and knees, she peered first at the gleaming eyes, then at the fish’s lips, watching them move as they opened and closed.



About TheImaginator

35 year old sciolist living in Tokyo. I like swing dancing, Twitter word games, writing, using, reading, and watching movies. I write stuff on my blog occasionally.
This entry was posted in Creative writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Fishy tale

  1. goldfish says:

    I’m fond of fishy tales. 😉

  2. Awww. This actually broke my heart a little. So sweet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s