Chaos: The Story of a Goldfish

He is beautiful.

His eyes that are so blue, his face that is so sweet. He looks so soft--can he really be so soft? I wish that I could touch him, but I am trapped within.

He leaps onto the counter, so full of feline grace. He lays in a spot and the sun drifts across his fur; all I can think is that he is beautiful.

He rolls his head lazily and looks at me, and I wonder if he can hear my heartbeat. I hope he doesn't think that it's because I am afraid.

I am not afraid.

I could never be afraid of him.

I wonder if he knows that. Probably, he does not. I sink to the bottom of my prison and wrap my arms around myself. It is colder in this prison that what I am used to, but Chaos looks warm. I smile softly as I look at him--he is fast asleep, soft, silent breaths causing his sides to rise and fall.

There is the sound of a door opening and closing, and she is here. She is called Terra, but I call her Terror. She bounces across the room and picks up a stick. She puts it into my prison and pokes it at me. I move away because I know movement is what she wants.

Terror grows bored and moves away--she leaves the stick in my prison. If I thought I could survive it, I would use the stick to climb out and then I would run away.

But it is hard to run when you don't have legs.

She picks Chaos up and he screeches in protest, but Terror doesn't notice or care. She seems to think that he likes being hauled around like that, on his back in her arms, but I know he does not. I press my palms to the side of my prison and wish she would leave him alone. She may do whatever she wishes to me, if only she would leave Chaos alone.

Terror is called away, and we are free for now. I smile at Chaos, and he blinks lazily at me. He moves toward the door, and then I am alone.

Day sinks slowly into night, but I wish only to see Chaos again. He does not reappear. I am sad.

Terror comes back, and she brings Maker. Maker frowns at my prison and turns to Terror. "What have you been feeding it?"

I do not like to be called an it. I am not an it.

Terror shrugs. "Fish food, what else?"

"Has it been eating?"

"No."

"Then why didn't you try something else?!"

"How should I know what to give it?! You're the one who turned my goldfish into a stupid mermaid, Mark! You feed it!"

I am not stupid. And I am not a goldfish. I wonder what a mermaid is? I wonder where Chaos has gone.

"Have you asked it if it's hungry?"

"I'm not gonna ask it! It's a fish!"

Maker comes toward my prison and frowns down at me. "Can you understand what I'm saying?" I do not trust Maker. And I do not know how to answer him. I press my palms against the side of my prison. I want to ask about Chaos.

"Look, Terra, I could get in major trouble for using my powers outside of the academy, so if it's gonna starve itself anyway maybe we should just kill it."

"But... it's alive, Mark."

"It's a fish! And obviously it can't understand us so..."

"All right. I'll flush it after dad goes to bed."

Maker nods. "I have to get going, my mom's gonna ground me if I'm late again."

"Okay, see you tomorrow Mark."

"See you."

Maker leaves, and I am confused. I do not know what they meant, 'kill it'. What does kill mean? They have never used this word before. But I remember the word 'flush'. Terror flushes the fish when they stop moving. I am afraid.

She reaches into the prison and grabs me. I squirm and wriggle--I do not like being handled like this! She puts me in a strange, clear bubble and carries me away from the prison. I feel sick, moving like this. She drops me over a strange white bowl and I swim out of the bubble--there is more space here than in my prison, but this water does not feel good against my skin and scales. It burns.

The water moves and I am sucked down a strange hole, and then all is darkness and burning water. I scream for Chaos in my mind, but it is too late for him to hear me.

Soon, not even I can hear me, and the burning is gone.

The painful darkness is gone. Everything is gone.