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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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Venatus and the Indoor Prison IV

 

Venatus landed on a dead mouse that the cat had left by the balcony door. Other flies came. Venatus listened carefully to the songs of the birds, the chirping of the crickets, and the cawing of crows, and soon the buzzing of flies as they came to the meal. He basked in the warmth of the sun’s rays.

It was beautiful.

The door opened. The man, with a plastic bag in his hand, stepped out to get the mouse. The flies flew in all different directions. Some flew away towards the forest, others tried to land back onto the mouse before he could carry it off, but some other flies had other ideas.

“Let’s go inside,” a fly said to his two friends. “I bet they have some good stuff in there!”

“No!” Venatus said. “The humans will—”

The flies flew in, and the human disappeared back into the house with the dead mouse in a plastic bag.

“Ugh, not more flies!” he heard the girl cry, and he saw a flash of the red fly swatter.

An image of Buster flashed into his mind. Venatus shook his head and flew to the garden, landing on a sunflower. Caw, caw, the crows went. He didn’t want to think about what would happen to those flies, or about what had happened to Buster. Instead, he observed the sunflower, and, for the first time, enjoyed the cawing of crows.

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