Cosmic Dust

It’s not that long ago when I was prodding a stick in the pond in the back garden and making hell for the frogs. I’d stir up the amorphous blobs of frog spawn as well, marvelling in how they caught and scattered the sunlight when they broke the surface. Throwing pebbles at the goldfish was fun too. The large fish were slow and that made it easier to get an accurate shot. With the water lilies covering a lot of the surface, I think I did quite well.

One of them had fungus growing on its side. Mr. Mouldy attracted unwelcome interest and amusement from one of his cohabitants – Jaws, I called him – who harassed him continually. I felt sorry for Mr. Mouldy, so Jaws received much of my arsenal of small stones.

Most of my fun was with a group of twelve small fish. They darted around very quickly which made hitting them nearly impossible, but their group dynamic was a wonder to watch as they swerved in unison and with precision to avoid my showers of grit.

Mum never knew about my time by the pond, of course. She probably thought I was making mud pies. Who’d ever condone such inhumane behaviour?

The pond suffered when the Earthquake came later that summer. A rupture in its plastic lining caused it...

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Paul Sterlini
Aug 13 2020

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Sad, poignant, thought provoking; even funny. This is quite simply brilliant writing that will stay with you long after you've finished.

Rod Webb
Aug 30 2020