Write a brief narrative using pic related as a prompt
>>24079091Please throw me back in the ocean before I die. I'm like the proverbial!
He had once been a Big Mouth Billy Bass, the kind you’d see mounted on walls, endlessly singing his plastic song. But his fate changed when an autistic boy, drawn to him in a way no one else could understand, rescued him from his lifeless mount. The boy, silent and determined, carried the fish to the ocean, pursued by mysterious men in suits who seemed bent on stopping him.On the rocky shore, with nowhere else to run, the boy made his choice. He clutched the Billy Bass tightly and leapt into the churning waves. As they plunged into the depths, a surge of ancient magic awakened. The lifeless toy was transformed into a real, living fish, its scales gleaming with an unearthly light. it later washed up on shore beside his shoe.i made a short film about this when i was 16.
A child notices a something at the edge of the water on the beach. She wonders what it could be and approaches with curiosity.Then she sees it, a dead fish. This is the first time she's seen death, the smell of it, she begins to slowly cry.The girl summons up the courage to pick up the fish and put it back into the water. Atleast then it may be reunited with it's family.As she carries the fish it turns her head to her and starts to sing:"Here's a little song I wroteYou might want to sing it note for noteDon't worryBe happyIn every life we have some troubleBut when you worry you make it doubleDon't worryBe happy, don't worry, be happy nowOoooooOooooOooooOooohDon't worry, be happyOooooohDon't worry, be happyOooooohDon't worry, be happyOooooooOooooooOOoooOooohDon't worry, be happy">>24079103Fuck you beat me to it!
>>24079104hey you just copied me.dont steal my film idea, it already won awards.
>>24079106I wrote it out then updated the thread to see who else posted. Then I saw your post. Stop precognitively stealing my ideas.
>>24079107that's a trip.this was 16 years ago when i made the film.
>>240790981 sentence tragedy by OP:Return him I did, yet he swam sideways back to me
>>24079091That morning, instead of sleeping in, I took a walk on the beach. The sun shone so beautifully and the air was great. I'm glad I did it, I'm glad I didn't sleep in. Maybe another kind of person would have slept in and missed that beautiful morning, but not me.Anyway, as I was walking, I saw a fish, washed up in the sand. I couldn't identify the kind of fish it was, my fish knowledge has always been lacking. Back in middle school, there was this girl, Samantha, who was slightly better at math than me, despite it being my best subject. She also knew a lot about fish - you could show her any kind of fish and she'd tell you "that's a salmon", "that's a pike", or whatever else. Really, it's common knowledge. When I saw that fish in the sand, I decided that from now on, I would spend 20 minutes a day studying the various types of fish out there. It's the least I can do.Anyways, the next thing on my mind was, that I should save the fish. That's a perfectly normal thought. I reached my hands towards it to grab it - it looked really, really slimy. But the thing is, that made me feel even better about saving it, because it felt more like a sacrifice. The moment this thought hit me, I stopped dead in my tracks.Was I saving this fish out of my own altruism, or because I wanted to feel like a good person? If I grabbed it and then gently put it back into the water, wouldn't I just be reinforcing my hero delusions? I took a step back from the fish and assumed a typical philosopher's pose, with my hand on my chin. (A cliche, I know, I just couldn't think of anyhing better in the moment.)Does an action become less moral, when one gains pleasure from it? Do intentions affect morality in general? If two people both gave the same amount of money to charity, but only one of them took selfish pleasure from it, would both of thse donations hold the same moral value?In that moment, I thought hard, but I couldn't quite figure out the right answer.Saving animals in general is tricky, as one can accidentally hurt them. One time, during a school trip, Samantha picked up a lost baby bird and put it back into the tree. The teacher told her, that the bird's mother wouldn't accept it anymore, and Samantha cried. She cried and cried, about how she had hurt the poor baby bird, and everyone kept comforting her, and the teacher kept saying "Oh poor Samantha, she's so great and kindhearted!" For the rest of the trip, she kept talking about how kind she was. No one cared, that she had sentenced that bird to death. Everyone loves an animal lover, surely they can get away with a transgression or two.I decided to save the fish, but it had already choked to death,
>>24079211I don't mean to criticize your story too harshly, but finding pleasure in morally good actions is actually a positive trait—it reinforces ethical behavior. As for Samantha, she didn't condemn the bird to its fate; it was already doomed, much like the fish. Its destiny had already been set."
>>24079211pretty damn good, anon.
>>24079211Doing good things because they feel good is good Also good story
>>24079211based
Bump, I'd like to read more stories about fishies
>>24079216>>24079222>>24079232I now understand why slop like Moby Dick is so popular here, when clunky, poorly written blank-faced excursions on cod-philosophy like this (you know, instead of actually writing a story with subtext and immanent moral stakes) go over so well.
>>24079091"thank fuck for that, now that dick hemingway won't need to write that tedious novel" said the old man
>>24080386Yes, I love slop
>>24079091Sunlight poured across my skin and it was getting hard to breathe. I can only imagine why my home is in the sea. Gentle ebbs of waves told me I would be gone by end of day
>>24079091The fish shone in the sun: gunmetal skin and pointed fins of a darker mauve: it's flank was a sickly, silvery yellow with small ridges almost imperceptible at certain angles. A pointed moustache ran up to beneath its eye that lay open, stuck with sand like some two-balled marble. "It doesn't stink," said Luis' cousin."They never do," Luis looked out at the waves, "until you get them on your kitchen counter anyway.""Are these ones good to eat?""I guess so." The two boys took the fish at either end and carried it down the beach and up the concrete stairs to the hot and pebbled promenade. As they went, street urchins and vendors nodded to Luis and remarked on the fish. Passing a transvestite hooker, Luis' cousin looked to those pantyhosed legs and felt something stir in him as the fish slipped from his grip."Nice fish, boy," the transvestite puffed out a kiss of smoke towards Luis' cousin. "Come on Ruiz," Luiz took the fish in his arms and ushered his cousin before him. "Don't look back at the tranny." Ruiz heard the hooker blow a kiss after him as they went, ahead of him the fish's head and tail bounced in his cousins arms. Hand in pocket as he went, the boy felt a little wooden cross in his pocket: they ascended another set of stairs to where the houses began their ramshackle-sprawl over the sweating hills.idk how to end it, apologies for spelling and grammar.
My window's facing east, and I'm a light sleeper, so I always wake up at dawn. I like to walk down to the beach before it gets too late and other people start showing up. There's always that old man, walking his old bearded terrier. That's when I turn around to go home. He's the first pensioner to show up and break the sound of the waves with his dogs insistent yapping. Nature's my alarm clock, and this is the alarm.This morning, a silvery shape glittered on the shore. I expected flotsam, but it was a fish. A catfish, maybe? It had whiskers.I stopped in front of it, at the edge of the tide, and resisted the urge to squat. I'd only have to get up again. It was still alive. Pale mouth opened and closed to suck at nothing, although its chest didn't move. As if a fish didn't have lungs that filled with air and exhaled carbon dioxide. This time, I fought the urge to throw it back in the water. It must've come in at high tide. That must've been a long time ago. It must be dying already. Fish were slippery, and the water was cold, and I didn't want to squat in the shallows to rinse my hands that'd still smell and taint my jacket.Squinting up at the ocean itself, it seemed rude to do such a thing. I'd never inconvenienced it. Never bathed in it or built a sand castle or thrown rocks into it to hear the noise and watch the crash. Still, I got my boots wet as I walked out and grabbed the slimy cold thing by its tail. It came to life, thrashing, spilling sand onto my trousers and slipping from my grasp to splash seawater onto the sand already on me. I reared up and watched it disdainfully for a moment before grabbing at it again. Once I held it by its tail, and it shook in my grasp, I considered how to put it down and where. I settled on gingerly walking until the water reached the curve of my toe cap, Then, a wave overtook it and seawater seeped into my socks.Annoyed, I leant down, and swung the fish so that it'd land with its tail facing shore. It languished for a few seconds, swam slowly for a second more, and then darted off. I waded back ashore, and spotted the man with the dog. He'd probably seen me out there, possibly swinging a fish.He called out for his dog to stop barking, like he always did, then called out to me. His 'Good morning!' seemed desperate, as if he was just going through the routine before he could get to asking me what I was doing back there. So I didn't stop for him, just growled 'Morning' in response as I walked past him with wet socks and sand on my trousers. He couldn't hear me over his dog, but I didn't stop to repeat myself.
>>24079091The first fishI ever caughtwould not lie downquiet in the pailbut flailed and suckedat the burningamazement of the airand diedin the slow pouring offof rainbows......and ate him. Now the seais in me: I am the fish, the fishglitters in me..certain to fallback to the sea. Out of pain,and pain, and more painwe feed this feverish plot, we are nourishedby the mystery.
This is fun
Sammy woke up. He was hungover. Pale light crept in at the edge of the curtain.He rolled over and checked his phone, wincing at the headache.It was 10:03, there was a message from a girl.“Yo, fancying doing something today?”It was Olivia.They had met last Saturday, in a bar with a bunch of friends. They had ended up kissing.Now she was infatuated with him, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her it had meant nothing.Sammy put down the phone and got up, drank a ton of water, went down to the kitchen. His housemates were all asleep. In the kitchen, there were stacks of dirty dishes, pots and pans. He could see his breath in the air.‘University living,’ he thought. ‘I’ll get breakfast in town.’He took a bunch of pills to help with the headache, then had a shower and went out, wearing his big winter coat.Only when he was seated in the warm cafe, and his food en route, did he message Olivia:“Sure, what u thinking?”No sooner had he put the phone down than the reply notification appeared on the screen.“We could go for a walk?”A walk, a walk; a walk meant talk, endless talk.“Sure,” he fired back. “What time?”~They were walking along the beach, talking about their subjects (he was History of Art; she was Mathematics). She was prettier than he remembered.Suddenly she stopped. “Whoa,” she pointed.They had arrived on a fish.“How did it get there?” she wondered, looking from the fish to the sea, far far away, for it was low tide.Sammy didn’t know and didn’t care.“Watch this,” he said.Sammy took one or two running steps, then leapt high in the air, tucking in his knees at the zenith, and came down hard on the fish, his boots exploding the head. He then stomped around, mushing the fish brains in with the wet sand, grinning from ear to ear, then laughing hysterically, stomping and stomping and laughing maniacally now, until the fish and the sand were indistinguishable within the grey bloody pulp that thrashed beneath his pounding feet.He stopped and turned around.Olivia was aghast, frozen with terror.Sammy smiled, walked over to her and said “come here doll” and then took her face and plunged his tongue into her open mouth, and while she was stiff at first, quickly she softened and soon they were mushing together in increasing ecstasy, spectated only by a scaly eye.Stopping in his pleasure, Sammy looked down at the eye.“I will call you Incel,” he said to its dumb pupil, then went on kissing the lifeless girl.
The beachwalking pervert sniffed the air. Something somewhere smelled like pussy.
>>24081010The beginning was pretty bland, so the fish mushing part really surprised me. The ending is a funny visual, with them kissing over a destroyed fish. This story is a bit hastily written, but overall, I like it
>>24079091And when he came back to, he was flat on his back on the beach in the freezing sand, and it was raining out of a low sky, and the tide was way out.
good thread. have a bump.
>>24079103I like that name. Billy bass. In what distant ocean deepDid thy scales once flash and leap?What bright lure, what tempting hand,Cast thee lifeless on the sand?Once proud swimmer of the bay,Fooled by anon’s bait at play,Empty eyes toward heaven cast,Noble Billy, hooked at last.
>>24079091The fish died and resurrected in an anime MMO world. He had 12 episodes of anime adventures before being cancelled and living on in BL doujinshi only.
>>24081100based
When I stare up at the Branches of Time, I am reminded of the old, shattering sky. When I look down to the fish with a leering eye, I see the rising tide that I once made mine.
