Thursday, December 20, 2007

Writing for Pets

Was getting a little too picky about where to start in this book, so I am starting on the first section, first exercise! This is, um, a kindergarten-level writing exercise, called Writing For Pets. I have chosen to cast my pet as a hero in a short story.

Without further ado, I give you: Fishy Fred, the Hero:
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Days, it'd been days and still nothing! Fred didn't even know what a day was, but he could feel the certain many-dayness pangs in his fishy belly. It was light, and nothing. It was dark, still nothing! Light, dark, how long had it been? "Damn my fishy memory!" he thought to his self. It was true, a fish's memory only holds out for a few days at the most, and then it is absorbed into the void.

What if he was already in a void, maybe he had never had any food! Maybe things were just as they were, as they always would be; the pain may be normal! The dayish feeling may just be what it was like to feel, he had no way of knowing, really. Still, he held on to that kernel of memory, the hope of a truth that may forever escape his days forth.

He had to believe, he had to! Food was real! Memories were real! The movements outside of his world would return, they must return! And that, down in the corner, he forced a glance at the most disturbing detail of his current ordeal: his green was browning.

The green corner that he had always gone to for comfort, the only detail that was constant in this godforsaken existence, it was changing. The green was browning, the luscious green of his corner was becoming no longer. Maybe it was natural, perhaps it had and would again do this over and over, but something about it was just, unnatural. Oh, how he longed for the green again, for anything steady in this world, for the green, for some food, for some pudge-blurred movement on the outside!

Then, it happened. The vibrations, the noise and the rumble, slam! it went as the water around him reverberated, sending additional waves of chill down his invertabrit bones. That noise, it was somehow familiar. And then, wait! There it is! The movement is back, the movement is back! Oh good God, Fred was filled with excitement, he went up to the boundary of air, took a big gulp as his body involuntarily convulsed with excitement! He slapped the boundary, and felt the delayed ripples of splashter massage his body into a momentary calmness.

"Hey, Fred's happy we're back! I heard him splashing." The boy kicked off his shoes and put his bags down as he walked towards the fish's bowl.

"Haha, poor thing! I bet he's hungry." The girl's face was momentarily pouty until contorting into a grimace of effort as she tried to kick off her untied shoes.

The boy walked up to the fish bowl and grabbed the food pellets. He heard another splash and as his gaze journeyd back to the bowl, he noticed that one of their plants wasn't looking too well.

"Ack, I don't think we'd watered the plants in a bit even before we left! Could you fill up that pitcher? They could use the moisture."

The girl sighed, "Sure, just let me get situated for a second, alright?"

And that my friends, is how Fred saved the torture that is a thirsty plant.

The ENd

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