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The Fisherman's Lament

Sailing across the ocean blue  Singing shanties with my merry crew We cast our nets into the briny waters To provide for our wives, sons, and daughters. But when are nets grew heavy and taut We heaved them up to see what we caught. And what did our accursed eyes behold? Fish with scales that glistened like gold. We cheered as our nets burst at the seams. We were rich beyond our wildest dreams! But my heart quickly sank to the sea floor As I recalled the warning we got days before. “Should you ever catch fishes of gold Remember the ancient warnings of old: Release them and don’t be slaves to greed Lest you anger the Merfolk with a selfish deed.” With heavy heart, I reminded my crew Of the solemn warning from Old Ms. Rue. They laughed and said, “It’s just an old wives tale!” And our captain said, “Homeward we sail!” I warned them that this was a foolish deed But my voice was one they chose not to heed. As they started to sail home with childish glee A great shadow loomed below the su...
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No. 2's Plight



No. 2 lay on his side next to the others. It would be his turn after the other one was finished. He was not looking forward to it. He would probably be trembling in fear or try to roll away if he were able to move. But he couldn’t. He had to stay there and listen to the machine’s grinding and scraping of wood against metal, waiting for the next victim. One of the others in the group probably read his fear, for he said, “Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt at all.” Then No. 2 was lifted by a large hand and his head was stuck inside the circular hole of the contraption. He waited to feel pain. He was turned around and around against the metal and plastic, and to his surprise, it really didn’t hurt. The other No. 2 was right. Soon he was sat back on the table along with the shaven No. 2’s. “You’re looking pretty sharp,” one of them said. No. 2 beamed. He liked his new sharpened lead. His pencil friends were right, he did need a shave.




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