Anedra and the Fish Prince, part 3

Her mother dipped her hand into the water, reaching toward the fish that was her daughter. Anedra flicked her tail and propelled herself forward without much control, bumping her nose into her mother’s hand. She nuzzled the skin which felt strangely warm and foreign against her new fish body.

Her parents stayed on the bank the rest of the day, their heads dark outlines against the dusky sky by the time Anedra sank toward the bottom of the stream to rest, awkwardly wedging herself in between two rocks, water flowing over and around her, cooling and soothing the length of her scales.
When Anedra raised her head at last, the sky was pink with dawn. To her horror, she saw that she was no longer in the stream. Somewhere during her resting phase, the current had dislodged her and carried her out to sea so subtly that Anedra was not aware of it.
She turned and darted back from the way she’d been facing, desperate to find the stream mouth, determined to fight her way back upstream to rejoin her parents. But all around her was water. Swimming in every direction with erratic bursts, eyes darting frantically for the smallest glimpse of land, there was nothing but water.
If fish could cry, Anedra would have raised the sea level by several inches. But she couldn’t cry, so she drooped in the water, her fins hanging listlessly.
Something smacked into her so hard that she flipped over in the water, gasping, bubbles rising toward the surface.
“You must come with me,” a gravelly voice said.
Anedra turned and saw a fish so heavily textured that his sides looked like the thatch of a roof. “I want to go home,” Anedra said.
“That’s where I’m taking you.” The fish turned and headed off through the water. Anedra hung back, unsure if she could trust the strange fish. Before she could decide whether to follow him or not, he came zipping back through the water, as fast as a pistol shot. Alarmed, she jerked upward with a flick of her tail, arcing up over the fish as he zipped past beneath her.
He spun in the water. “That’s better than the swimming you did before, or just plain luck,” he said. “You come with me now, or I’ll have to push you into line.” When he puffed up, the thatch on his sides stiffened into spines that stuck straight out from his body. They looked painful. Anedra realized she had no choice but to follow him.
The puffer fish led the way down into water so deep it shifted from blue to purple. Just as Anedra was despairing of ever seeing light again, she spied a golden glow beneath her, so warm that it disoriented her. She thought she’d been swimming downward, but had she really been going up toward the sun? The light pulled her onward, as welcoming as the windows of her own warm house. If she could only get back home, she would do everything for her mother and father. She would obey them in whatever they told her, never talking back or making a fuss.
The puffer fish glanced back at her, frowned, and then put on a burst of speed. Anedra swam faster to catch up, feeling awkward in her fish skin. The puffer fish stopped beside a doorway of coral taller than Anedra’s father, the golden light coming from within. “Go on,” the puffer fish growled.
“What’s in there?” Anedra asked, suddenly wary. She tried to see inside, but the doorway didn’t reveal any secrets.
“For water’s sakes, go in already,” the puffer fish grumped. “It’s your new home.”
“No.” Anedra shook her head and backed away from the coral doorway. “My home is with my mother and father. I don’t belong here.”
“You do now.” Faster than she thought possible, the puffer fish circled around her, cutting off her escape and bumping into her with his cruel barbs.
“Ouch!” Anedra cried, swimming forward to put distance between them. With her eyes on the puffer fish, she scraped against something rough. When she whirled to face the new danger, she saw that she was just inside the coral doorway.
“Welcome,” a voice called out as soft as waves on a sandy shore.
Trembling in her scaly skin, Anedra turned, transfixed by the sight of a lovely lady with turtle green hair and pale skin sitting on a chair carved of rock.
“I know this must be strange to you,” the woman said, her mild blue eyes on Anedra, “but you will get used to it, as I have.”
Anedra sensed that she could trust this lovely woman with cheeks as pink as sunrise and lips as red as coral. She swam toward her, then stopped suddenly at the sight of the green tail fins waving gently in the current. “What are you?” she asked.
“I am Queen Belvedere,” the woman replied. “I used to live on land, as you once did, but a cruel giant stole my crown for his daughter, Durlynn, and threw me into the water. It was my fortune to be rescued by the water spirits who decided to turn me into my current form so I would not drown.”
Anedra gazed upon Queen Belvedere’s human half with longing. “But why am I a fish? Why don’t I have a human head and arms as you do?”
The queen fixed Anedra with her green gaze, which had suddenly gone cold. “Because you ate the fish who was my son.”
A sudden shock made Anedra’s fins tremble. “It was an accident,” she said. “I didn’t mean to kill him.”
“But you intentionally ate him.” Queen Belvedere gestured to Anedra. “I see the mark of his tail on your forehead.”
Anedra spread her fins. “I only had one bite. He was dead, he was a fish, and I was hungry. I didn’t know he was not what he appeared to be.”
“Your father warned you.” The beautiful queen gave a humorless smile. “And now you are a fish. Do you think if someone caught you and you begged them not to eat you that they would be so kind as to listen to your pleas?”
Anedra warmed with shame, wondering about all the fish she’d eaten over the years. Her stomach lurched. “Was every fish once a human?”
“No. Most fish are simply fish. Only a few were transformed into fish from their original human selves.”
“Can they go back?” Anedra thought of her mother and father and their warm embrace. She longed to feel their arms around her again. She would scrub a thousand floors to feel her mother’s hug, cook a thousand dinners to feel her father pat her hair.
“Very few manage to find a way. As for me, without my crown, I will stay as I am.”
“I’m sorry,” Anedra said. “If I had legs and lungs, I’d get your crown for you and restore you to human form to show you how sorry I am.”
“Do you mean it?” the green gaze sharpened.
“Of course,” Anedra said. “But what can I do? I am a fish.”
Queen Belvedere began singing, a strange, echoing song that resonated from the coral walls around them. She reached up and pulled three strands of green hair from her head and carefully braided them, still singing, then moved close enough to slip the braided hair around Anedra’s middle, tightening the green band behind her dorsal fin.
Queen Belvedere fell silent. The sea seemed ominously quiet without her song vibrating through the cold, dark water. When she spoke, her voice was low and solemn. “Now you can change yourself into any animal you choose by thinking of that animal and hitting yourself on the forehead over the fish tail mark.”
Anedra put a fin to her head. “It’s still there?”
Queen Belvedere gave a single sharp nod. “Always.”
Anedra dropped her gaze. “I’m truly sorry. If I could bring your son back, I would.”
The queen’s voice was gentler when she said, “The giant gave my crown to his homely daughter, Durlynn, who used it to enchant a prince. Even though the giant died, the wedding is scheduled to take place tomorrow in the mountain country north of here. If you can get my crown back before they are wed and return it to me, then the spell will be broken.”
“I shall do it,” Anedra said. She turned toward the coral doorway, then paused. “Will the puffer fish leave me alone?”
“With my green weaving, you have complete autonomy in the sea. No one will bother you.”
Anedra nodded, then flicked her tail and swam through the doorway. Angling upward, she swam as fast as she could manage toward the surface. The sun was high when she poked her head out of the water, blinking in the brightness. Then, with a mighty wrenching of muscles, she managed to slap herself in the forehead with her tail while imagining a seagull soaring through the salty air. Before she could think twice, she was skimming above the green water on strong and slender wings, Queen Belvedere’s green braid weaving in between fresh white feathers, behind her wings and before her dangling black feet.
Anedra’s small bird heart raced as she skimmed the surface of water, fearful that her feet would catch in the waves and drag her under. She tried tipping her wings to angle her body upward. Soaring higher, her initial alarm gradually gave way to the thrill of wind flowing against her body, the superior sensation of watching miniaturized objects passing by beneath her.
She circled, her round, black eyes scanning the horizon until she spotted what looked like land to the north. Mama, Daddy! Without a second thought, she zoomed toward the smudge of brown, excited to find her parents again. As soon as the land came into focus, she studied the shoreline, searching for the stream that emptied into the ocean. Once she spotted it, she’d follow it back to her parents’ house. Somehow she’d make them realize she was their daughter. Somehow she’d find contentment just to live near them.
Suddenly she became aware of something moving toward her through the sky. She turned her head and looked over her beak to see an eagle arrowing toward her. She squawked and dove just as the eagle flew past her head, ruffling her feathers. She beat her wings in panic, unsure of how to evade this baffling new attack.
The eagle circled back, beak open, cawing, “You have a mission to fulfill.”
Anedra called back, “I only want to see my parents.”
The eagle swooped close and Anedra shied away. “There is no time. Head for the mountains.”
To be continued…

Anedra and the Fish Prince, part 2

Anedra put the last dish away and turned toward her mother. Not only had working made her hungry and ready for lunch, but she wanted her mother to see how nice she’d made the kitchen look. “Mama?” she said. “I’m hungry.”
Her mother didn’t reply. She lay with her head on the back of the chair, her eyes closed, mouth slightly open as she breathed the deep and even breath of sleep. Even though her mother looked pale, Anedra called to her again, “Mama? I’m hungry.”
Her mother shifted slightly, but didn’t respond.
Anedra put her hands on her hips and tightened her mouth, hunger raising her ire. She had just spent an hour cleaning for her mother and now her mother had fallen asleep on her. She knew that her mother liked taking care of her, and thought about shaking her mother’s shoulder to force her to awaken.
But before she could walk over to her mother’s chair, she heard a thump at the front door. She turned just as her father bumped the door open. His eyes swept over his daughter, slanting upward at the corners as they always did at the sight of her dark curls and sea blue eyes. “I have found the most marvelous thing! He cried, setting a tightly woven basket on the table. “Where is your mother? I must tell you both.”
Anedra pointed at the chair where her mother slept, then turned to look in the basket while her father rushed to her mother’s side. The most beautiful fish she’d ever seen lay twitching beneath a layer of greenish sea water. The fish was as long as her forearm, its scales thickly colored in gleaming shades of red, orange, and deep purple with flashes of rich metallic glimmer, like silver and gold woven into the tips of the scales. The fish was breathtakingly beautiful and looked absolutely delicious. Strangely enough, it seemed to be looking up at her. Tiny bubbles like silver beads rose to the top of the water and broke through the surface. “Pretty.”
Did that fish just call me pretty? Impossible. It was her hunger talking. Anedra reach into the basket and grasped the fish by the gills. It arched in a powerful spasms of muscles, its gleaming iridescent tail swinging up with all the power in it to slap her forehead. Dazed, she fell back against the cupboard, her fists instinctively tightening on the fish as she fell.
“Anedra!” her father called, his heavy footfalls running toward her. “What happened?” Darting a glance into the basket, he cried, “Where is the fish?” His eyes focused on the lifeless fish body still clutched in Anedra’s hand, its head kilted at an odd angle. Anedra’s father fell to his knees at her side. “No!” he cried.
At first Anedra thought he was worried about her, but to her shock, he slid his hands under the fish and took it from her, cradling it gently while tears spilled down his grizzled cheeks. “No, it can’t be dead.”
“Papa? Where is your concern? That thing hit me in the head. I think it left a mark.” Anedra rubbed her forehead.
Her father looked up at her, his eyes mournful. “This was no ordinary fish.”
Mama stood in the doorway, her hair pressed up flat on one side of her head from sleeping on it. “It is more colorful than most, Henry, but what is all the fuss about?”
His gaze shifted to his wife and he gave her an apologetic smile. “It spoke to me, Maureen.”
Anedra thought she’d been hit harder than she realized. Before she could say anything, her mother said, “It spoke to you?”
“I know it seems crazy, but this fish said not to eat it or there would be dire consequences. It said it was a prince.”
“You are bewitched,” Anedra said. “Enchanted. Don’t let anyone hear you talk that way or else we will lose you.” Anedra got to her feet and pulled the fish from her father’s hands. “I am famished and I will have this fish for my lunch.”
“You must not eat it!”
“Why waste food? And what difference does it make if it’s already dead?” Anedra pulled out a pan and set it on the stove.
“You shouldn’t do that, no, you shouldn’t do that.” Her father’s voice sounded lost and scared.
“Mama, I think Daddy needs to go lie down,” Anedra said. “Why waste food?”
So she cooked the fish while her parents left the room, although she was awkward about it since it didn’t quite fit in the pan. It looked rather pitiful with its head over one side and its tail over the other, bobbing slightly in the heat waves. But that didn’t deter Anedra. Her stomach rumbled as she turned the fish over, the browned scales looking even more appealing in her hunger than the bright, clear scales on the raw side.
At last she flipped the fish onto a plate and pried the smallest bit of skin back with a fork. The flesh steamed white and moist. Anedra put her fork in and lifted a small block of fish to her mouth. She’d never tasted anything better. It was rich and buttery and seemed to infuse energy into her cells.
Anedra’s father stepped through the doorway and strode toward his daughter, tears rolling down his face. “I cannot let you do this.” He swept his hand across her plate and the fish was gone, carried in his big hand to the door.
“No!” Anedra cried, jumping up from the table. Her father had never denied her anything she wanted before, and she wanted that fish.
“Where is he?” Mama asked, hurrying into the kitchen.
“Out there. We must stop him.” Anedra ran through the door into the yard and saw her father heading for the stream bank, the fish held slightly back from his body, ready to throw.
“Is he going to jump in?” Mama asked from behind her.
“Papa, don’t!” Anedra yelled, just as the fish arced up into the air, its scorched scales catching a hint of color from the sunlight.
Anedra reached her father’s side just as the fish splashed into the water and sank from sight. Inexplicable tears welled up in her eyes. “Why?” she whispered.
“To save you, my girl,” Henry said, reaching out to touch her dark curls.
Anedra wobbled, the bones in her legs seeming to flatten out into a substance as thin as sheets of paper, unable to hold her weight. Her father’s arm swept around her, trying to support her, but she slipped through his grasp.
“Anedra!” her mother gasped. “What’s happening to you?”
Her father sank to the ground beside her. “You didn’t eat the fish, Anedra, you didn’t eat the fish, did you?”
“Just one bite,” she gasped, then her mouth moved up and down, up and down, and no more sound came out. Her arms shortened and thinned, shriveling to stubby, paper thin limbs that wafted ineffectually in the air. Anedra’s lungs shrank, and she gasped for air. Her stomach squeezed so tightly that she threw up, the flow of vomit arcing out into the stream.
“No!” Mama shrieked. “My daughter! Where is my daughter?”
Why are you asking? I’m right here and I don’t feel well. Take care of me, Mama.
“Why did you eat the fish?” Henry cried, his voice wobbling with emotion. “You weren’t supposed to eat it.” With a gentle caress, he slid his arms under Anedra’s body and lifted her up from the bank. Then he tipped her upside down and slid her head-first into the water.
Anedra gasped in shock and flailed her limbs as the cold water slid through her new gills, giving her oxygen. She flipped her tail and moved to the surface of the water, looking up to see her parents bent over the stream, staring down at her, their faces full of sorrow, tears raining down to dimple the water over her head.
I’m a fish, Anedra thought with surprise. But she was not a fish. Not inside. She was a girl who wanted to go home. Gazing up through the water at her parents’ faces, she realized how much she loved them and didn’t want to leave them. Why hadn’t she listened to her father? More importantly, how could she get back to the way she was supposed to be?
(To be continued next week.)

Kindles for Kids & Anedra and the Fish Prince Fairy Tale

KINDLES FOR KIDS is asking for fairy tales to load onto kindles so hospitalized children will have something to read. I've wanted to contribute, but... well... who isn't busy? (Click here for more info on this worthy cause.)
I don't know if I'll make the deadline, but I thought I'd start a fairy tale here and see where it goes.
Ahem.
ANEDRA AND THE FISH PRINCE
Not so very long ago, a middle aged fisherman and his wife and daughter lived by a stream that tumbled into the sea. The fisherman was mild-mannered and steady in his work, his wife was diligent in keeping house and caring for her family, and the teenage daughter was remarkably beautiful and quite lazy. With her head of dark curls and blouse of scarlet, she'd usually leave her room in a mess and skip down the stairs to coax her mother for money so she could go to town and socialize and buy sweets.
Her mother, looking upon her only child's bright blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and endearing smile, would say, "Anedra, I cannot refuse you, but I do wish you would help me around the house."
"Later," Anedra said, her hand outstretched, her smile sparkling. "Thank you, Mama." She kissed her mother on the cheek and bounced out the door, giving her father an enthusiastic wave on her way to town.
Then one day, with her father out fishing as usual, Anedra came bouncing down the stairs. When she saw her mother's face, she stopped. The way the light came in through the small window showed lines on her mother's skin that Anedra hadn't noticed before. Shadows sat beneath her mother's eyes, and her mouth was drawn down until she looked 100 years old.
"Mama, are you all right?" Anedra asked, moving to her side.
Her mother looked up and tried to smile. "I don't feel well today, dear. That's all."
Anedra felt a wave of concern crash over her heart. For the first time, she thought about how her mother might feel. "What can I do to help you?" Anedra asked.
Her mother stared at her with concern in her eyes. She placed a hand on Anedra's forehead. "My daughter, are you well?"
Anedra laughed at her mother's expression. "I am doing better than you. Come over here and put your feet up. Let me make you something soothing to drink. Shall I wash the dishes for you? I think I can figure it out."
Although she walked like she was in a dream, Anedra's mother followed her daughter's instruction to sit on a chair and put her feet up. Then she watched her daughter bustle about the kitchen, wiping up spills, cleaning dishes, sweeping the floor. What had come over her daughter?
To Be Continued Next Week...

Chicken Troubles

It's enough to drive you to drink, or... well, whatever your vice may be.
THE SAD CHICKEN STORY:
Once upon a time we got some chickens. (Last year, twelve of them.) When they were teenagers in chicken years, we sent them outside to get a job. They lived in a lovely apartment with food, water, and roosting spots on a wooden castle. (Really.)
Then, two of them gave in to temptation and got TOO CLOSE TO THE FENCE, allowing some short, dark, and handsome predator to pull them through the fence. Trouble was, they didn't fit. They went out in pieces.
The next morning, the tragedy was discovered, along with one surviving chicken dubbed "Wingless," because, well, she got too close to the line of temptation and lost a wing, but her life was saved.
Wingless and her surviving sisters began earning their keep by producing lovely brown eggs. They enjoyed leaving their apartment to scratch in the yard and sunbathe their russet feathers and yellow beaks beneath the sun's warm rays.
Then tragedy struck again when a Strange Dog entered the yard through an open gate and carried a chicken home to meet its family. We never saw that chicken again.
Nine sisters remained. The gate was reinforced and closed every day. But who would have thought that the chain link fence would give way to a burrowing dog with his cold eyes fixed on Wingless? It turns out that she only got two lives, because she's a chicken, not a cat.
Eight chickens left. Fewer eggs in the fridge. And the neighbor up the street has never lost a single chicken, to dogs or raccoons or speeding cars or space aliens or anything.
Time to readdress the situation. Spiky chicken collars, anyone?
This sad but true tale provides a good model for story writing. A goal (chickens) fraught with various troubles (separate predator attacks) and finishing with a solution. (Ninja chickens. They look cute in their little black belts.)
Now go write a story. It's good for you.
(See "What Brothers Do" at shirleybahlmann.blogspot by clicking here!)

Passage on the Titanic - trailer for Anita Stansfield's new book!

My sister won a Kindle... I'm hoping her magic assimilates to me by related DNA, because I'm posting this trailer so I have a chance to win!

The Kindness of Jeffrey Scott Savage

Jeffrey Scott Savage, who just signed with Harper Collins after beginning with little Utah based Covenant publishers, is a kind man. He spent time talking to me at LTUE ("Life, the Universe, and Everything" held at Utah Valley University.) His kindness was greatly appreciated, especially since he's a busy guy.
I've actually heard stories of other big name authors who leave book signings early because they are too tired or annoyed with the lines of people, or who ignore other writers as being beneath them. I know a few authors who've made it big and I've seen an aloofness in some of them. Perhaps rightly so, as they may get more attention than they want. But Jeff has managed to find that rare balance of professionalism and kindness.
As I was getting ready to leave the conference the next day, that very same Jeff Savage passed me in the hall without acknowledging me. But I didn't mind. Of course he didn't see me. He was deep in conversation with another conference attendee, a man whose face was set with determination as he conversed with Jeff aabout his writing dreams.
I couldn't help smiling as I turned away.

Lost and Not Found



I seem to have a habit of losing things. For example, I must clip my keys to some large object, preferably one I carry with me, in order to severely cut the risk of losing them. (I once found my keys in a garbage can!) I recently lost a shirt that I was determined to keep track of. (No, it wasn't the one I was wearing. It's not even mine! Someone else lost it!) Now I've lost some Very Important Papers that I saw only yesterday. Where, oh, where could they be? They are not in the vicinity of where I last saw them. They are not where they are supposed to be. (I sometimes subconsciously put things away. Good for me.)
This losing-stuff business is the very reason I carry paper with me everywhere, even having some handy at my bedside. I must capture writing ideas before they are lost. Which makes me wonder all over again...where do things go when they are lost?