Your writing prompt this week is
SAVE
What does this week’s word bring to mind for you? To save money or a goal in soccer? To save face or something previous? What about to rescue someone? Or you can look at it at a deeper level – to be saved from sin. It’s over to you.
Fact or fiction, prose or poetry, I would love to read your thoughts on this week’s prompt, but there’s no obligation to share your writing. Here is the work you shared on the last prompt FISH.
Fish and Chips
The paper parcel was still warm in my hands, the faint scent of vinegar escaping through tiny holes in the wrapping. I walked down the weathered boardwalk toward the sea, my sandals slapping softly against the wood, until I found an empty spot on the sand where the wind smelled like salt and sun-warmed seaweed.
The waves were rolling in lazy and blue, the kind of afternoon rhythm that made you forget what time it was. I unwrapped the parcel, the paper crackling like a small fire, and there it was—the golden, crisp perfection of fish and chips. Steam rose into the salty air. The first bite of fish was pure bliss: flaky white inside, crunchy outside, just enough grease to glisten on my fingertips.
A few gulls edged closer, eyeing my meal with professional curiosity. One gave a sharp cry, as if announcing to the others that a sucker had arrived. I tossed them a single chip—well, maybe two—and they exploded into a flurry of wings and feathers.
The wind picked up a little, teasing the edges of the paper, and I held it down with my palm. The chips were getting cooler now, a bit soggy from the sea air, but somehow that made them better—like they belonged here. Each bite was part of the scene: the hiss of the surf, the distant laughter of children building sandcastles, the hum of a radio playing an old song about summer.
By the time I finished, the sun had dipped lower, painting the waves in gold. I folded the empty paper neatly, brushed the sand from my knees, and watched the last of the gulls drift away toward the horizon.
There was something quietly perfect about that moment—just me, the beach, and the taste of salt and vinegar lingering on my lips.
The above are pictures of jellyfish washed up on the shore in Hamworthy Park where we used to walk Maggie practically every day before we left the area in 2007.
They were taken in July 2015 on one of our visits to see Mum and we’d decided to let Maggie have some fun before we arrived having been cooped up in the car for the long journey of some 4 to 5 hours.
I had only ever seen pictures or TV programmes so had no idea how big they could be.
We don’t know if it was a natural beaching, or a freak tide which had brought them in to the shore, and from what I can remember, it was only on one particular stretch of the beach, not all of it.
It was sad though as they were either dead or dying, so there was no hope for these creatures survival.
Rall:
fish on friday
not any more
been a long time
behind me
now settled the score
i eat meat when I want to
like it or not
and i haven’t yet been struck
by a bolt of lightning
dropped dead on the spot
F.I.S.H.
“Well, we have an acronym, now we just need a department to go with it. Any ideas.”
“Well, the F could stand for… Fish.”
Amazing; but as we have nothing to do with fish here… anybody else?”
“The I could stand for I.”
“It could. Yes, and with a little more imagination it could also stand for…?”
“Indigestion?”
“Superb. Now we’re cooking – but not in a culinary way.”
“Igloos?”
“Interesting.”
“Interesting?”
“Less so. And what about the H? And, before you start; no Haddock, no Herring, no Hake, no Halibut.”
“Hammerhead Shark?”
“Nice! But, no. No fish at all for F or H.”
“Salmon?”
“No fish for S or I, either. Come on, for a group of writers you certainly have the limited imagination of a house brick.”
“I reckon it could be the, Festival Integration System Hub.’
“And I think that will have to do nicely. So, here at the ‘Festival Integration System Hub’ I would like to welcome you all to our nine-pin bowling evening at the ‘Flounder and Flatfish’.”
Fishy Dish
How I wish that I had a fine fish
nicely fried, baked or cooked on a dish.
Well, I don’t. That’s OK.
Who likes fish anyway?
Let them swim like a fish where they wish.
fish on cue
the angler would rue too
shine deliruim
hook in thumb
oof and ouch!
Gamevolution
My baby sister giggles,
tells me, “Go Fish!”
(She had no Sevens
and now I knew).
She’d asked me
for a Five before
and I didn’t have one
but I’d picked up a couple
in the meantime, and
I asked her for hers
and smiled when she
handed me a pair
and I put all four down
in front of me, making
my win inevitable
and making her cry.
After that,
all we ever played
was CandyLand.
Message in a Bottle
Strolling down the beach in the placid dark of night
I heard an ethereal tingling in the silvery tide.
Looking around, I saw nothing – but then I heard a song,
a tender, meandering melody followed me all along.
A softly humming voice made me almost forget
all about the foamy waves that left the beach so wet.
My shoes got soaked, so I took them off and carried them in hand
and made my way back to the dunes to repose in the sand.
I just dozed off into sweet dreams when the voice returned to me,
I couldn’t help but listen, so beautiful sang she.
Her language was a strange one, I could not understand,
she must have come from very far, unknown, exotic land.
Then there appeared a shadow out of the misty dusk,
and I did smell the perfume of sweet seductive musk.
She danced towards me, almost nude, dressed in pearls alone,
and kept on singing all the while in the most harmonic tone.
She took me by the hand, and towed me back to sea,
the tide was out, which sealed my fate: the current soon took me.
I tried to swim for life, yet I was going down,
but much to my surprise, the water did not make me drown.
Instead, I grounded on a bank, of coral it was made,
and there she lay beside me, just in her natural state.
Then she told me of her life, they were wondrous tales,
she said: “welcome to my palace, I’m the princess of whales.
If you will be my prince, wherever we may roam,
then write a goodbye letter to your folks at home.”
So here it is, dear finder: so long and fare thee well,
if you take this message home, you’ll have a tale to tell!
I sat and made a wish
That dinner would be delish.
The serving on my dish?
Turnips and day old fish.
I have but one tattoo,
It’s Pisces the fishes
But the design is not auspicious
I’d like to remove or cover it up
Yet not enough money fills my cup
Therefore I’m stuck
Two fishes and no luck
Here to wishin
I could just go fishin
Cause fish on your skin
Don’t feed the hunger within
I crave a fatty on my line
Cooked in garlic butter
And served with wine.
Something Fishy
The slimy roach was a cold fish in a shiny suit
with a flat, glassy stare,
changing into limp fish-out-of-water to flop around the poolside
and carp at us for being slow.
Slow to catch on…
Mr Finn our swimming teacher has left the school.
Writer’s Choice
Caged…your insidious fish…
Glory World, please come Nano…like
Eleventh Monday secret…a wild shot
Honesty…Writer’s Choice
Red/Gold
Won’t/Don’t
In November, answers block magic…
Please moderate colors
Good-Bye
***
Last week’s prompt GLASS
Earth is in trouble
Break glass in emergency
We need relief now
***
And together:
The climate change did not come whimpering in, it came in with a crack of thunder and lightning.
Freezing, icy wind, swirled snowflakes into tornadoes of terror for all it touched it paralyzed. Fish frozen in open mouth, bug eyed horror in their glassy ponds and lakes. Staring at nothing for eternity. There was no immediate TV break in announcement; there wasn’t time for that. This was not a test. In the houses, the stores, the hospitals, the coffee shops, nothing moved ever again in the new ice age.
Golden Scaled Swimmer
We let the young son win a festival hippurus
Little did we know everything we would acquire
To keep that golden swimmer alive;
A tank, filter, gravel, food, live plants
And even companions a special clean up catfish
We tried other similar aquarians, and learned
That guppies are not a good match at all –
And snails when they sleep don’t close all the way-
Making a tasty treat for the hippuri
When we moved house from one state to another
About six hundred miles by car, all our pets came with us
The gold fish was in a trash bag tied at the top in a pail
Snug and safe on the floor behind the driver…
If the hippurus had a name I do not recall it at all…
But it lived a very long life getting big and fat –
Outliving all its companions except the plecostomus
‘It’ wasn’t a special coy – just a regular fair fish
That was lucky enough to find a forever home
sometimes
little golden swimmers
live long lives
Ten Amazing Fish Facts
This is not a super fact but a collection of interesting facts about Fish. They are not very important facts but amazing facts.
Most fresh water fish would die from dehydration if put in sea water
Most freshwater fish would die from dehydration if placed in seawater due to a process called osmosis. The same is true for saltwater fish placed in freshwater. There are a few exceptions. So called euryhaline species are able to more or less handle both freshwater and seawater, an example is salmon. It is also why freshwater fish native to oceanic islands like Hawaii are euryhaline species. Freshwater fish that are not euryhaline species cannot travel to oceanic islands.
What is a fish?
A fish is a vertebra (has a backbone and a brain protected by a braincase) that is aquatic, lives in water, has gills, fins, scales and is cold blooded. Dolphins, whales, jellyfish, and starfish are not fish.
Some fish have both gills and lungs
Lungfish have both gills and lungs. Their unique respiratory system allows them to breathe underwater with their gills and also breathe air from the surface with their lungs. Some species of lung fish can survive on land for several months.
To read more on this fascinating subject, click here.
Bridges or Hooks
some make friends
to weave connections,
to build soft bridges,
to open doors
to meaningful conversation.
sadly,
others only fish
for the tender nuances of a life—
details they’ll wield
in some future storm,
or scatter as gossip
for anyone who’ll listen.
Catching Autumn
the fish leaps
leaves fall
i catch neither
Stone fish
Well, I couldn’t give this one a miss, could I!
I am married to a Michael Fish, you can imagine the jokes we’ve had over the years, but what people don’t know is that my dad was a work colleague of the famous one, whilst working in the Met Office.
Dad could have been a forecaster on the tele himself, but didn’t want the fame.
Here’s a limerick I wrote after The Great Storm of 1987 (when the jokes came really thick and fast).
Michael Fish was quick to allay
Fears of a hurricane on its way
Great damage was done
( Sevenoaks became one )
When the great storm hit later that day
From ‘A Sexagenarian from Smithy Fen’ by
Valerie Fish, available on Amazon
The Canoe Trip
It began as a normal camping trip. There were five of us, my husband, myself, our son, our son’s wife and his daughter. We camped side by side in a beautiful place and went hiking among Mansfield sandstone cliffs. Mansfield sandstone is ancient sand compacted and cemented for millions of years, exposed under the bedrock by erosion caused by glacial meltwater. The park was stunning, and there were many creeks nearby including one that was hailed as the most beautiful scenic waterway in the state.
My husband, Billy, and our son, Joseph, had decided they wanted to canoe down this scenic waterway. We studied the maps and they decided on a 14 mile stretch down the creek. They picked two spots with easy access to the water, a dropping off point and a pick up point. They packed some water and snacks and we drove to the dropping off point. Joseph really wanted his daughter, Nora, to join them on the canoe trip, because it would be a beautiful trip and a lot of fun. Nora was five years old at the time. She agreed to go.
Joseph’s wife, Trisha, and I dropped the guys and Nora off and watched them launch the canoe and begin paddling down the creek. We went back to the campsite to wait for the time we had determined they would arrive at the picking up point, about two hours later. Cell phone service was non-existent, but we could sometimes text each other, so we told them to text us if anything went wrong.
Everything went wrong! It was September, and usually the water level would not be a problem, but the guys encountered many places along the way that were so shallow they had to carry the canoe. There were also places where the water was very deep and because the creek flowed very quickly, these spots became white water runs. The canoe was tipped over more than once. Nora was hungry, tired, and so unhappy. The 2-2 1/2 hour trip took a little over 5 hours. Trisha and I were worried sick. We thought of Deliverance. We thought of all that could go wrong. We sat at the pick up point for almost an hour before we finally decided to return to the campsite and wait until we heard from them.
Joseph’s pitbull, Bailey, went with the guys on the canoe trip and she ran along the bank, keeping her eyes on them and Nora for all 5 long hours. Nora was such a trooper, and she was so good and tried to stay positive. They saw gorgeous scenery and fish swimming in the crystal clear water. When they finally finished the trip, we were all so happy to see each other! Billy and Joseph were exhausted and Nora was starving, Bailey was done.
After all that, Joseph grilled us all steaks for dinner and we had a very delicious dinner. Oh yes, and every night, the racoons raided our campsite and got into everything they could. It was a memorable trip!
Nora has only been in a canoe once since then.
The Fish who does not know how to Swim
Of late, I am consciously trying to fight with my reclusiveness. I am not exactly unsocial but I don’t go that extra mile to be friendly either. I have always been like that though my work profile necessitated me to change a bit superficially.
I remember when I was in my teens my mother would ensure that I went out of the house to play in the evenings. I preferred to stay inside with a book. I had a lot of complaints against mother on this and thought that she did not understand or accept me as I was. But I was wrong. I now believe she knew me more than I knew myself and that’s why she made it a point to make me realise the importance of stepping out and mingling because though we may dislike we have to mix in society be it for work or for leisure.
I wonder from where I got this trait of enjoying my own company. Both my parents were very friendly and social though my father receded into a shell after a life changing shift. My elder sister has always been very outgoing and extrovert. The other day she told me that I should move out a little more. My mother belonged to a large family of socially and culturally active people. On my father’s side both my aunts and uncle loved travelling and were well connected. One of my uncles remained cut off from the rest of the family so I don’t know much about him and his family. But my sister does talk about warm relations with my aunt (uncle’s wife).
I am not exactly a fish out of water in social gatherings. But I am definitely not a party person either. At work as well as in family get togethers I prefer to get into the role of an observer sitting quietly and watching others. I hate public speaking and had to rehearse several times under my breath if I were to deliver an extempore speech at farewells and other such occasions.
However, in like minded company I am not only quite open but also talkative. But that company is again very selective.
My sister wishes every other person she meets during walks. I have tried to adopt the habit but I disapprove of people who try to be inquisitive or familiar after two meetings. An elderly lady in the park whose walk time coincides with mine has started asking questions like why there is a change in my walking schedule, where is my sister and why she is not coming along with me etc. Though I reply to her politely I feel uneasy giving out so many details about my private life. More so, because I don’t feel the urge to ask her back so many questions. Quite a few times I wanted to know where she lived but I have not been able to and the query has remained on my lips unuttered.
Having said all that I still feel I am a people’s person having successfully delivered for more than four decades in public service wherein I had to deal with a variety of people from a cross section of society and serve them the very best way I could. Living in aloneness and living in isolation are two very different things. I like having people around but I don’t like them to be too personal. How’s that ?
Well, that’s me. A fish who is struggling to be in the waters. Hopefully some day I will learn to swim. At present I am just afloat.
Interwoven Paths: Redux
We will never know whether the inexperienced young motorcyclist realized, for even a split second, he would fail to negotiate the notoriously tight curve, that crisp spring afternoon. Or what he was thinking when he felt himself losing control as he fishtailed into the turn….
What we do know, is that upon impact, his helmeted head was embedded in the shattered front end of a 1998 Chevy Astro Van, being driven by a man, an ordinary man, traveling at a safe rate of speed, down the same sector of road, demarcated as it was, by two solid yellow lines, assuring his right of passage around the same tight curve…
And that life’s nemesis- death- visited, and carried away with it, not only the broken remains of the motorcyclist that lost his precious young life, but also the innocence of a man that now only vaguely remembers what it ever felt like to be- ordinary…
One-eyed Goldfish
When I was eleven years old and Cath, Hayley and Laura were seven, three and two, respectively, we travelled by car all the way from George in the Western Cape to Johannesburg to spend Christmas with my aunt and cousins. We made the twelve-hour journey all in one go, leaving home at 4am in the morning. It was a squash for all four of us girls to fit into the car together with our parents. Cath and I lay on the backseat and Hayley lay on the self above the boot. Laura slept in the space at my mom’s feet.
It was a long and uncomfortable journey with only short stops for the bathroom. My mother had packed a food for us to eat in the car on the way, so we didn’t stop for meals.
By the time we finally arrived in Johannesburg late in the afternoon, everyone was bad tempered and antsy. Hayley, in particular, was full of jellybeans and wouldn’t stand still once released from the confines of the vehicle.
My aunt had a goldfish in a large bowl on her kitchen table. Hayley was fascinated by this fish which swam round and round in its glass prison. There were a few wavy bits of greenery in the water, and the bottom was covered with sand. There was also a little castle for the fish to swim through. Hayley was transfixed by this fish. She refused to come upstairs with us and see her room. In desperation, Mom left her in the kitchen to watch the fish while we carried all the bags and other luggage upstairs.
When we came back, Hayley was sitting on the kitchen table holding the poor fish in her hand. It was just like a cartoon where a cat finally manages to grab a fish out of a bowl. My aunt was upset and rushed over to save the fish. On its return to the water, we discovered that one of the fish’s eyes was gone. We looked all around but we never found that missing eye, so it remained a mystery. I always hoped that Hayley had not eaten it.
long, difficult day
impedes decision making
young child left alone
catches unfortunate fish
escapes, one eyed but alive
***
Image credit: pinterest
Esther Chilton 
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