His flat, round, unblinking eye is staring out from the bowl. It darts to and fro like a fish does, like he used to. His only other movement is the tremor of his body, his gills flapping laboredly. His mouth opens and closes in great, gasping gulps like he is out of the water. His bright gold scales are a sparkling wave of iridescence with every twitch of his dying body; they seem too cheerful, inapropos, for his dire state. Little red streaks from sepsis travel through his fins like road map to suffering.
A little girl in the class asks the other youth minister why God allows people to suffer. She is probably only six or seven years old, but she already recognizes the incongruity. He smiles her words away and offers the same tired platitude: God has a plan for us all. I remember a time when I could say those words with conviction.
My attention drifts back to the fish and his silent plea for mercy. I fancy that man must be the God of beasts, for like Him, we ignore their suffering. I let out a strangled bark of laughter that garners a frown from my comrade; I don't care. I pick up the bowl, the cool orb heavy in my hands, and I dash from the room. I run past the Christian nursery school, children seated semi-circle in rapt attention, their bright eyes focused on picture-book depictions of Jesus. The preist's sermon echoes incoherently down the hallway.
I am not certain of what I will do with this goldfish, but I am certain of one thing: I am tired of being a God. Today, I have found Humanity.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Three Shorts
1. Soldier
My hands are too clumsy weak, too slippery with blood to really grasp anything properly... but I want to hold it anyways. I fumble against my coat pocket; I've had this coat for years, but suddenly this old friend is a new enemy as the fabric sticks to my fingers, folds under my grasp, refuses to yield. It takes most of the energy I have left to finally clench it weakly between a trembling thumb and pointer, and the rest to withdraw it, hold it in the fading field of my vision. Things are getting dim, but her smile on that faded, wrinkled film is brighter than the sun creeping over the horizon to my back.
"All for you, babe," I mutter to a memory. "It was always all for you."
2. Cattle
It did not take long to find the herd; they bellowed and belched and reeked blatantly, the quiet, cautious decency of a prey animal long forgotten. Hunkered in fat, dull masses like their human masters, the cattle wrapped their strong tongues around the grass, dragging it up by its roots and chewing idly. Their hooves cut into the frozen soil as they slowly paced to and fro to strip more plant life from the earth. All around, the prairie was marred by their gluttonous destruction.
3. Nevermind
I still remember how you invited me back to your house, paused, and then said "Nevermind." I thought little of it at the time; you were busy with academia as always. Now I think perhaps you knew that it was going to be the last time you ever saw me, and wanted to keep it as simple and perfect as the day had been. But part of me still wishes I’d known, too.
My hands are too clumsy weak, too slippery with blood to really grasp anything properly... but I want to hold it anyways. I fumble against my coat pocket; I've had this coat for years, but suddenly this old friend is a new enemy as the fabric sticks to my fingers, folds under my grasp, refuses to yield. It takes most of the energy I have left to finally clench it weakly between a trembling thumb and pointer, and the rest to withdraw it, hold it in the fading field of my vision. Things are getting dim, but her smile on that faded, wrinkled film is brighter than the sun creeping over the horizon to my back.
"All for you, babe," I mutter to a memory. "It was always all for you."
2. Cattle
It did not take long to find the herd; they bellowed and belched and reeked blatantly, the quiet, cautious decency of a prey animal long forgotten. Hunkered in fat, dull masses like their human masters, the cattle wrapped their strong tongues around the grass, dragging it up by its roots and chewing idly. Their hooves cut into the frozen soil as they slowly paced to and fro to strip more plant life from the earth. All around, the prairie was marred by their gluttonous destruction.
3. Nevermind
I still remember how you invited me back to your house, paused, and then said "Nevermind." I thought little of it at the time; you were busy with academia as always. Now I think perhaps you knew that it was going to be the last time you ever saw me, and wanted to keep it as simple and perfect as the day had been. But part of me still wishes I’d known, too.
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