The Goldfish-napper

Chapter 1

Mr. Ackford would have never expected such a thing to happen to him, of all people. Such a thing like this seemed quite un-logical, impossible and besides, Nessie was nothing but a goldfish. Why would these strange people want her so much? And why oh why was one of them so utterly good-looking.

The day started the same as always. It was a rather bleak day in the desolate city, like usual, and somewhere in this city stood Mr. Ackford. The tall, skeletal man let out a loud sigh and reached into his worn-down suit pocket to retrieve his house keys, only to find nothing. Instead was a hole, no bigger than the size of Mr. Ackford's hand, but big enough for a pair of keys to fall through. Shaking his head slightly, trying to remember if the hole had been there before, Mr. Ackford bent down to lift the square doormat that he had just been standing on to grab the spare key.

Once the spare key was in his hands, Mr. Ackford was quick to try and unlock the door, perhaps a bit too quick. The keys slipped from his sweaty hands and onto the ground, causing Mr. Ackford to let out a sigh once more. The man reached down again but was surprised to see another key identical to his spare. His main house key probably, so he reached for it and carefully unlocked the door, making sure not to drop the key again. He turned the knob and stepped through, expecting to see his goldfish swimming happily in its tank, but he could hardly see anything.

Mr. Ackford slowly put away the key, making sure it was in the left pocket with his wallet rather than the one with the hole. He moved to the light switch, repulsed by the sudden foul smell that only seemed to be getting stronger. Has my house always smelt this bad? Perhaps I should invest in some candles, he thought to himself. The light switch that was usually right next to the front door had seemed to have disappeared, and Mr. Ackford gave up on finding it. He took off his suit jacket and threw it to the ground, not caring enough to put it where it belonged.

He bent down to remove his mud-stained shoes, using the door behind him to help keep him balanced as he moved from one shoe to the other. He then continued to toss the old pointy shoes somewhere to the side of him, guessing they would end up next to the suit jacket.

 He Walked slowly, careful as to not hit anything as he made way through his house. But still seemed to fail. Mr. Ackford let out a yelp when his boney hip hit the hard corner of what he believed to be his table.

For some odd reason, Mr. Ackford only had one table in the entire house, and that table held one single thing. One thing he loved most in this world, his goldfish.

Realization set in when he heard the loud sound of the circular glass tank shattering. Mr. Ackford stood completely still, frozen in place. He took a deep breath in, choking slightly from the stench of his house. With his eyes shut tight he began to take a step forward. "Nessie?" He whispered, taking in another breath, and with his back straight and head pointed forward, left for his bedroom. He would deal with this later, just as he had dealt with every other problem he had. He would just sleep it off, wake up, and deal with the disaster later.

Believe it or not, Nessie was Mr. Ackfords third goldfish this month. Mr. Ackford loved the first one quite a lot, too much one would say. He hardly let the poor thing catch a break or breath. Mr. Ackford had never been the brightest out of his four brothers and sadly wasn't the stupidest either. That title belonged to the youngest. He never knew that you couldn't cuddle a goldfish and it took a few trials and errors before he realized that.

When Mr. Ackford made it to his bedroom, he fell right onto the bed, which creaked with every little move he made. He laid there, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep once again. Maybe it was the fact that he had just killed Nessie, or was it because of the uncomfortable feeling of all the crumbs that lay in his bed. From when he would stay up late, eat, and binge-watch those terrible romances in bed. Who knows? He shifted one last time before he fell into a light sleep.