Being horror related, I have to give a content warning. This will be bloody, it will mention death and depression. (Not in this one but in the future parts) Please, please, please, talk to someone if you ever need help dealing with such problems. I have seen so many people recently who are too down in the dumps to realize how wonderful life can be if given the chance.
Now, lets get on with the story.
Fish.
John loved fish,
He had always been infatuated with the sea and their many wet inhabitants. From vibrant coral reefs to toothy sharks and elegant jellyfish, there were so many wonderful things the sea had to offer. The sea's natural order, its primal and enigmatic nature held a deep fascination for him. Even the idea of being a fish himself lit his imagination ablaze though he knew it was merely a dream. If John had to choose just one specimen, it had to be the lantern fish.
That is the one he liked the most.
If he could ask for just one thing, it'd be to see them up close. But prayers like his are never answered, he understood that he'd have to take it in his own two paws. And, objectively speaking, the idea was pretty sound, save up enough money to go deep sea diving one day. Not once did it cross his mind to stray from that idea.
To see a lantern fish up close would be a blessing in its own, not to mention watching them carry out their natural cycle of life.
However, to do this John needed money. A lot of it. So much so that he started most of his mornings by pulling out a bowl from a drawer full of identical ones, usually needing to take a rag and dust it off before swiping some milk, pouring it and then doing the same with a box of healthy, grain cereal. And that was it, breakfast, lunch, and dinner served.
As John held a bowl in his green paws, he glanced around his room for a moment. Not a single decoration to look at except for the flat mattress on the floor. It was sad but he needed every dollar he could get. And at the moment he wasn't getting much. Weekly pay was jack-diddly compared to deep-sea voyage expenses. Merely the thought of eating a juicy steak sent goosebumps down his fluffy, emerald pelt.
Scarfing down his food for the day, John stood up and marched to his bathroom, opened a compartment hidden behind a mirror, clutched one of many bottles, and unscrewed the lid. Inside remained five pills, today he would try using only three, two for the start of the day and one for the end. A bit less than usual but it seemed like the symptoms were slowing down. For now.
Looking at his watch, John noticed that it was time for him to go. Work wouldn't wait. The man glided past his mattress and to his door where he swiped a wool jacket and stepped out into his car. Keys into the ignition, twist, loudly the car hummed. This was good, old as the car was, it ran just fine. No need to fix it. The hum signaled John to lower his foot on the gas pedal.
For the ride there, nothing sparked John's curiosity, just the same ol' same ol'. Infested sidewalks, bars open at seven in the morning, awfully packed traffic, and prying eyes everywhere. Just a normal day. This jungle of a city would never change. Driving to work, the breeze strode pash his hair, as small as it seemed, it tugged at the corner of John's lips.
Wedged between two others, John put the car in park and squeezed himself past to two doors about his height. Although, his ears spiked a good five inches up. So in all technicality, he was taller. Not that he needed to brag. With each hop, leisurely he made his way to work. Reaching the front door, many people could be seen waiting with warm smiles. John put on a cheerful smile himself before welcoming each person personally and skipping into a small, blue room. Carried inside that room flaunted a fluffy blue chair; long, warm nylon gray couches; and a white table in the middle supporting tissue boxes and green, ceramic cups full of pens, paper clips, and pencils handpicked by him. The smell of freshly brewed coffee grazed past his fluffy nose. The scent led to a steaming, glass mug patiently waiting for him. At the touch a scorching warmth raced through his skin. Forced by the head, his fingers retreated, yet the pain remained. For a good minute, a continuous breath of cool air was the most John could do in response. His eyes jumped around and landed on a slip of paper next to where the cup once was. "Good luck John, have fun! PS: I cleaned the lounge." The note squeaked in its familiar doodle. "Jean…" On one half, John wanted to thank her but on the other… A haiku about her might not be so bad…
With coffee in hand John tossed the trash to its rightful bin and continued on with small sips. Choco taste spread like wildfire in his mouth, hot enough to hurt but tasty enough to repress John's urge to spit, pain forced him to look down, then, his wrist yelled Eight forty-five,
It was time. Ignoring the burning pain, John flipped open his phone and tapped in a number. "Hey Margaret? Would you let the first patient know I'm ready to see them please?" Whispered John in a patient manner. Knowing how much Margaret loved to hear someone talk in such a way, it must have been like an angel singing in her ear. "Sure thing!" Hurriedly he planted a finger on the "end call" button and slipped his phone back into his pocket. Who was he going to talk to today, the anticipation was gnawing away at him. Every one of his patients always made for a splendid thrill. Listening to their adversites was so heart-tugging. And then, to hear those same people thanking him for helping them surpass those trials and tribulations… It was like observing a corrupt asshole die on the streets. He shouldn't be happy, nor should he feel so empowered. But he did. His heart skipped a beat every time.
Patiently, John watched for soft knocking to peck at the door. John hopped to pull the handle, revealing a young crow. "Mrs Emily, you're back! Come, take a seat." The crow hurriedly sat down on a couch and sighed loudly. John knew Emily quite well, she was normally an anxious person who worked at the coal mines. Lived out in the sticks for her whole life. She usually hid a habit of eavesdropping due to her belief that she was the subject. Not too odd of a foible for a nobody like her…
"What's the matter Em? You look frustrated today." The crow avoided John's gaze.
"They did it again today. They didn't listen." John's hand rested on his legs as he sat down on the blue chair and Emily rested on the gray couch with her feet kicked up on one arm and head resting on the other, the ceiling facing her. "I'm… sorry to hear that."
"I-I'm so done, I'm so over it! They never listen, no matter how much I yell." The scrawny voice croaked.
"And what did you do in response?"
"Nothing!" Triumphantly declared Emily.
John snared this as an indicator to reach into his pocket and lower a packet of crackers on the table. "That's phenomenal, Em. Do not let them get to you, you are very brave. Holding in your emotions is very vital and shows that you are growing." The crackers slid. Eyeballed by Emily. She was easy to read. Transparent as glass. Her talons rushed to sweep the packet and rip it open. Crumbs fluttered everywhere, while a happy smile creeped up John's face as he watched the crow gobble down the treat. Despite his frustration of having to clean up again, he patiently waited for her to get done with the packet and set the empty offering down on the table. "I am very proud of you. Is there anything else on your mind? I can tell you are anxious about something." Behind a comforting tone hid a deep insight. John already knew.
"I-It's my brother he– he's a bit sick at the moment and I don't know what to do." Contorting his face to that of a sad one, John threw his hand on his gaping mouth.
"That must be terrible. Have you tried taking him to the doctor?" Emily nodded in response.
"They gave some medicine, but it doesn't do anything."
"How awful."
"I tried to get him to do acupuncture and a toxic cleanse but nothing worked!" Emily was one to believe in those silly "treatments", she would likely start attempting to rid her brother of "evil spirits" soon enough. Funny as the thought was, something better was about to happen.
"For you to go to such lengths, you must care for your brother a lot."
"Of course I do! He means the world to me."
Time passed. The room stayed silent. Given the situation was as dire as it seemed, John pinched his whiskers and came up with a response, "You may be rushing through things too fast… Try going slower, ask your brother what may have happened and go from there." The crow shut her trap for a good while. John, on the other hand, was growing a bit warm and exhilarated from all the talk. He absolutely loved when his patients spilled their guts to him. This eclipse revealed so much of her hidden emotions. A moment, he needed a moment to adjust and calm down. "Would you like some water Em? Coffee perhaps? Something nice to cool down…" Emily opened her beak then closed it for a second as if fully considering her paths. "Water– please." Squawked her before giving a defeated sigh. Good, that showed John all he needed to see and it gave him an excuse to boot. "Weak minded individuals will always stick to the road given to them. That is the absolute truth." The thought flickered in John's head. At first, he didn't think much of it. Above them he was still. Then… he thought about it. "Weak minded individuals"? The words rolled off his mind's tongue far too well, since when was he so aggressive? It made him want to hurl. These crude comments juggled around his head for a while now with no direction.
That wasn't supposed to happen so quickly.
Unless…
John zapped up and darted out of the room, through a carpeted corridor and to a room with a large fridge waiting. Tall, white, it hogged many objects John used for each patient. But more importantly, the room is where he left his pills. John scavenged around for his pill bottle. He ripped open cupboards left and right. Towels, medkits, bags of chips, all thrown to the side, "Damn it Jean!" Yes, she definitely would make for a good haiku. Suddenly, deep in one of the cabinets hugging the corners was a pill bottle. His pill bottle. With the creak of his head and a large gulp came a rejuvenating feeling. "A brand new man" as he'd say. It always made him chuckle and tug at the corner of his lips considering the irony of his "sickness."
"Alright, time to get back." But first, John opened the fridge and scanned the contents. Celery, no. fish, no. Crackers, Eureka! The package was swiped along with a couple bottles of water, from there, he froliced back past the vibrant flower patterned corridors to Emily.
Weeping seeped through the walls and leaked into the corridors. Not good. Or… was it, John couldn't recall the past few minutes.
Carefully, John elbowed the neon green door and sneaked inside, placing the bottles of water on the table and the crackers towards Emily. "What happened Em? Are you feeling alright?"
Tears drifted down the poor bird's face and served as polishing. Crafted out of mucus and bubbled up emotions was a thin, reflective layer spread across her face. "M-my brother he– he– oh god!" She sniffled.
Her cries caused John to stand up and rush to comfort the poor crow. patting her feathery back, his chest pounded and, through empathetic tears, he asked, "Do you want to take a moment and rest?" Shakily, The crow nodded and placed her face into John's chest. Dark wings embraced John's muscular back. "Shh… shh… it's all right, everything will be fine." He whispered. A quiet hum lulled her to sleep until her sobbing slowed down. Without haste, her body dropped on the couch into a prone position. If John did not know any better he could have mistaken Emily for a corpse. "Everything's alright." Stated John with a sigh.
John hopped into his car with Emily in the back and made his way after a good few hours trying to cover up the mess she built. Apparently hauling a body wasn't as easy as it seemed, a measly one hundred and twenty pounds put quite the strain on his back. But a good name like his could not be soiled lest everything he'd done for naught, so he managed.
Afternoon sunlight began to wane, casting its warm glow across the vibrant city streets and handing out smiles to every person it passed. Fluffy or scaled, everyone fostered a bright smirk as they went about their eventful days. Calm red skies, glossy orange pants, glowing purple sidewalks, sparkling blue shirts, and vibrant green jackets, this city would never change. Always filled with life and luxury, complemented by amber shops singing playfully along the sidewalk. A day like this wasn't intended to be used grieving or moping around about financial issues. No, it should be used to spark the imagination.
Mayhaps it was time to fashion a few haikus.
