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Come in! We’re The Fishes! Welcome to The Aquarium! Hahaha no of course not. Not officially. Just a nickname. Dude, an ice-breaker. Drop it. Is this for broadcast? We’ll start in Michael’s room then. How big’s your crew? Shoot from the door maybe. Again, this nursery-room mobile of origami fishes has hung over Michael’s dresser since he was ill-conceived. The big blue fish represents me: Daddy Fish. Here’s Missus Fish, the yellow one. Sister Fish. Other Sister Fish. And Michael, currently purple. Correct. It hangs lower because it’s been repainted. Uh-huh. Often. I know. It upsets the dynamic. I fixed it once, but Michael objected as if I’d whacked him. What? How dare you. You there. Let him be. He’s self-regulating, OK?  Take a course. Well you’re in his room, so. Want your headphones, Michael? My Boy. Now notice each drawer contains just one garment type— What the— Hey, don’t move that! Not for angles, not for nothing. Again, the garment drawings indicate the contents— Is the Fishmobile a metaphor for what? Look, I didn’t invite you here for this. There are real challenges, peckerhead. Cuts to government funding, accessibility issues, what the hell happens when Michael ages out of school…. Sorry. You’re right. This is just the latest in a lifetime of long mornings. You like metaphors?: when he was two, something kidnapped our son. It dropped a hook into the family and pulled him from the water flapping. We’d suffocate where he lives down there beyond reach, and he can’t breathe where we live. Get it? We wait every day to land a glimpse of him, and when we do, we wish we hadn’t because it’s like watching him drown in air. So. You need more footage? Squeeze in here. You’re gonna wanna witness lunchtime. Makeup!

Original Copyright © March 18, 2007
Revised Copyright © March 28, 2026

At age six, we are wiser than at any other age. We know things nobody could have told us and we keep them to ourselves. Before I forget everything forever, shall I tell you what it was like for me that day? You know what it did to my sisters. Mother had taken me shopping for clothes for school—just me!—and the prettiest pair of patent leather shoes. For half an hour, I’ve never owned anything I loved more. I remember them like yesterday. When I look at the toes, my big fat baby face is smiling back. We’re almost home from shopping. Mother is smiling at the wheel of the big new Pontiac. Here comes Daddy, walking down the hill from the house to meet us. He has never done this. Something is wrong. He looks me back into my seat. I’m scared. I want to be the girl at school with the prettiest shoes. Daddy opens the driver’s door and leads Mother up to the house. I wait behind in the big hot car and swing my feet and look at my shoes, but the sun has died and all I see are clouds. Mother screams from the parlor, not an angry scream. They send my sisters, not my brother, to fetch me. Something is wrong. We walk along the dirt lane to the house and they tell me. I don’t cry. My shoes are nothing but dust. I see his body on the loveseat under a towel, but I don’t cry. I haven’t cried since, at anything. They’ll make a fuss of me at school, I thought. I’ll be the girl whose brother was shot and killed. I couldn’t say any of this until you asked me. I’m not wise enough anymore to know why.

Copyright © August 05, 2007

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299-WORD NOVELS

Character, conflict, emotional impact. And sentences! Everything you want in a novel, without one extra syllable.
  1. davidbdale's avatar

    Thank you so much, anhinga, but I wouldn't want to try it without the other 199. —David

  2. davidbdale's avatar
  3. anhinga's avatar

    All you need is 100 words to make an emotional impact. Touching.

  4. Unknown's avatar

    Brilliant, brother. Just simply brilliant.

  5. davidbdale's avatar

    This Very Short Novel has a strong resemblance to Simple Lessons of War from almost 20 years ago, but is…

Behind the Pseudonym

The pen name davidbdale honors my mother Beatrice (Bea) and my father Dale

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