Odd Prompts: Fish heads

This was a strange one. I read the prompt to my daughter, who supplied the rest of the mystery for me. 

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The fish heads stared up at him from the grocery store bin. Then they blinked at him. No... only one was blinking. Rashand straightened up slowly, looking around. The market was nearly empty. Shopping after his shift, in the middle of everyone else’s night, was more convenient. He liked this. 

Only tonight he felt a cold chill trickle down his spine. He looked back into the bin. The fish rolled his eyes wildly, the whites showing at the edges, and gaped his mouth. 

Rashand gulped, hard. Then he leaned down and awkwardly picked up the styrofoam tray. The plastic wrapping was taut over the agitated fishhead. 

Rashand put it gingerly in his cart, and wheeled it toward the front of the store. He had intended to secure more things for his week’s meals, but now he was intent on only one thing. 

“Just this, mate?” The cashier didn’t make eye contact. With Rashand, or the fish, who was calmer, but still looking around. 

“Yeh.” Rashand mumbled. “That’s all.” 

He put the bags in the cart and wheeled it out of the store. Then he reached down and moved the thin plastic away, so the fishhead could see. 

Back in his apartment, safely away from any other person, he carried the tray with both hands, reverently, over to the kitchen sink. He placed it on the counter, and stopped up the sink. 

“Will you want salt?” Rashand asked as he cut open the package carefully. 

The fish flapped his mouth, but no sound came out. 

Rashand contemplated it. With no body, perhaps speech was not possible. 

“Blink if you need salt?” He suggested. 

The fish rolled his eyes. 

“Right.” 

No eyelids. 

Rashand cradled the head in his hands, and slipped it into the lukewarm water, where it sank to the bottom, momentarily. Then it bobbed back up, spitting a little droplet of water. 

“Thank you.” The croak of the fishhead’s voice surprised Rashand, who took a step back from the sink. “For your kindness, I may grant you a wish.” 

“A wish from a fish.” 

Rashand maintained his distance. It was a little spooky, to have this conversation. 

“If you wish.” 

Rashand pursed his lips in thought. “If I can ask a question, does that count as a wish?” 

“What do you wish to know?” The fishhead ducked up and down, spitting water. Droplets glistened on the formerly clean countertops. 

“I don’t want to make that a wish.” Rashand shook his head. “I was just curious about how you came to be alive, with only a head.” 

“Very clever.” The admiration was clear in the fishy voice. “You did not ask a question, yet you conveyed your intent. Besides, who can resist talking about oneself?” 

Rashand kept his mouth closed and his ears open. 

“I was granted a wish.” The wishing fish waggled it’s head, all that remained. The water danced against the steel walls. “I chose to become immortal. It was not a clever choice.” 

“I would never wish for immortality.” Rashand turned his head and looked at the other fishheads, the dead ones. “There would be too many dead friends.” 

“So it is.” The fishhead couldn’t see out of the sink, but it was smart enough to deduce Rashand’s gaze. “And now, a very peculiar half-life.” 

“What if someone had come along and made you into soup?” Rashand forgot not to ask a question. 

The fishhead, perhaps out of vanity, answered anyway. “I daresay bad things would have happened.” 

“Oh, then I shall not wish for fish soup,” Rashand hastily assured him. “I shall wish for...” 

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I was prompted this week by 'Nother Mike with "The fish heads stared up at him from the grocery store bin. Then they blinked at him. " 

I prompted AC Young with "A thud, a bang, and the crash of the door flying open…" 

You can read all of the prompt responses - or join in on the fun! - over at More Odds Than Ends. 

(Header photo credit: Mike Barker)