Memoirs of a Goldfish

By Mitchell Hoyle

They say a goldfish only has a three second memory. A quick burst of life followed by an even quicker erasure. This was of course, a myth, but it was one I so desperately wished to be true. Especially after seeing the look on Claire’s face as she poured me into the toilet…

It was my own fault, you see. Nobody had told me to stay in character after our little game of ‘belly up’. I simply thought Claire valued commitment and I wished to show mine through my craft.

But woe, as I swirled around the porcelain basin, stubbornly locked into my role, I did feel a morsel of regret. I’d perhaps taken things too far… But a true thespian never breaks, and after a loud gurgle and a plop, I was flushed.

A dizzying eddy of twisting pipes followed, sucking me further down until at last I was spat into a fish bowl most unfortunate. For there were no glass walls, no opalescent pebbles, not even a castle of plastic from which to rule. Nay, in this realm of putrescence the walls were brick, the floor an algal mat, and the residents so ill begotten I couldn’t discern whether they were looking left or right.

The nearest approached, a listless goldfish with a gnawed off fin and two bulging eyes that bounced around like thick balloons. “Well well well,” it said. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?” 

Fear rippled down my dorsal, but hubris held my ground. “Ho good sir. Tell me, what lands have I come upon?”

“Good sir?” The fish coughed a wheezing laugh. “My liege, these be the sewers! Ain’t no coming back from here. ‘Tis just us and the rats, and we’ve been locked in a battle as long as I can recall. Hark! Their wretched squeaks echo the halls now! To arms men! To arms!”

From above, monstrosities of fur dove into the murky waters. Gargantuan creatures with  whip like tails, beady black eyes, and sharpened yellow teeth. The hapless fish warriors swam into action, glubbing with valour as they rammed into the gnashing beasts with their bulbous baby blues. 

Hubris be damned, I turned tail and fled, swimming into the nearest pipe and never looking back. I swam until at last the pipe revealed its end. A world of blue stretching out before me. 

It was astounding. There were no walls, the floor was a rug of silken sands, and castles of stone rose up as far as the eye could see. It was a paradise fit to rule, and yet something sat hollow in my swim bladder. How could I rule without Claire? Without the one who had always been there for me? How could I be me without— 

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Wait.

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Who the hell was Claire?

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Who the hell was I? Oh no. It was happening. I—

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They say a goldfish only has a three second memory. This was of course, a myth…