3. The dead fish

Sorry, the post got deleted, so I had to repost it and now it's not in the right order. I hope you'll forgive me and let it pass :)

3. The dead fish

                      I woke up from the turning in my belly and thirst. I really wanted to drink and water was a problem, big problem. From all sides the raft was surrounded by whitish-blue mirage, not a single hint of a coast to be seen anywhere. The sea and the sky merged together in a dull, endless and hot fume. It was a complete calm. And even if there was wind, where could I direct the raft, if I couldn’t see the coast?

                      Strange white birds glided high in the sky. If I tried hard I could see them lunging down, diving and then coming out with a fish in their beaks. Were these seagulls grandpa had told me about? Such birds dived for their food into the water and swallowed it, if it wasn’t big, or flew further to have a peaceful meal, if a fish was too big. Straight to the coast.

                      The heat made it hard to generate any thought, but if I wanted to survive, I had to think.

                      I lied down on the raft and dipped my head into the water to cool myself a little. The water was bitter and salty, but it still managed to tickle my pelt a little. And here I noticed that one of the flying fishes caught up by its fin on the raft and stuck there. Good thing I learned to swim with my eyes open. Grandpa taught me to swim and to dive despite the objections from my dear mother.

                      ‘A real sailor must learn not fear water.’ He would say. ‘Water is your friend, if you’re an adventurer and a real rat, and a foe if you’re a complete retard and cling to your mother’s skirt all your life.’

                      How grateful was I to him right now.

                      I poked the fish a few times, but it didn’t respond. It looked like it was dead. Maybe while dancing yesterday she hit the raft and injured herself. It was a pity, but it was a chance as well. I needed to get it onboard.

                      I got out of the water. Moisture, even salty one, cooled me down. I perfectly knew that it wasn’t for long. Soon enough the relief will go away and the thirst will return with renewed vigor.

                      ‘So,’ I thought ‘I need to get off the whipcord of the mast.’

                      I spend some time nagging the cord and curling it up on the bay. One end I tied to the mast and wrapped other one around my elbow a few times.

                      I was scared. I had a scary feeling that even though the raft was right next to me, if I dived and then emerged out, the raft would be gone. I winced and then jumped in. The water was quite nice, actually.

                      I dived in under the raft and probably only from the third time did I manage to get a hold of the fish by its fins with the cord. I remember, that something slippery passed me by, nearly grazing me with its sharp flippers. I panicked letting out the air I was holding in and grabbed on the raft climbing up desperately, fish nearly slipping out of my paws.

                      I lied down, the fish unmoving by my side, for a few minutes waiting for my heart to steady. The fish was slippery, prickly and unpleasant to touch. It looked me straight in the face with its dead eye. I nearly gagged at the sight of it, nausea washing over me. I closed my eyes, taking in a few deep breaths and then held my breath. I bit into its moist, cold side.

                      The fish proved to be quite tasty and juicy. It thirst has gone away almost instantly. The fish was soft, white and tasteless.

                      The sun was already high in the shy and only a small shadow from the sail saved me from experiencing the same heat again.

Christer - our good friend

This is a link to our very good friend Swedish writer Christer. It's all in Swedish, but maybe it will be translated someday. 

Please check it out: 

http://www.bums.nu/sagor/

 

The 'Bout mouse-ish art

Illustrations and photo illustrations for the 'Bout mouse are here! They're all original and made by the author himself. Please no copying!

The 'Bout mouse, ehem, 'Bout rat

The meeting

The flee

4. The hunt

This time it's going to be short, but enjoy!

4. The hunt

                      While I was diving the birds had flew away. They were most likely full and returned to any bird business they might have.

                      Though, a single dirty white seagull hovered in the sky not too far away from my raft. I could see her turn her head in curiosity, trying to judge what was floating below her intently. Its beak was long, little curved at the end and most definitely predatory and the two little black beads that you could call its eyes were gluttonous.

                      An idea hit me hard. Afterwards it will seem like a suicide, but then…

                      I quickly gnawed off the tail of the fish, made two openings, set up the whipcord in it and tied it tightly. Just a second ago the seagull was ready to dive down onto my raft, its wings folded in a deathly for me pique, but now it was flying in circles above me clearly interested in what in the heaven am I doing.

                      I checked the knots twice and wrapped the other end of the whipcord around my waist. Then I threw a lump of the fish at the seagull as hard as I could. At first my decoy flew up and when it reached the max height it could reach while being thrown by my weak palms it started going down.

                      The seagull only watched the spectacle take place and did nothing more. It seemed that the seagull was not as interested in the fish as I predicted.  It was aiming for me instead. I collapsed covering my face. I lost, the idea was worthless and I’m going to die – that’s how it was,

                      At the last second the seagull changed her flight trajectory and seized the fish just as its sleazy side touched the water and winged up. The raft swashed and I almost slipped of it, but the whipcord held me in place. The raft jumped up and I too, a small, grey rat, not a bird or even a plane, flew up in the sky.