Dead Fish Swimming

a Davey's Family story

500 words based on a sentence selected by Dive.  Click here for more info.

This week’s sentence is from Willa Cather's Death Comes For The Archbishop:  'Muerto,' he whispered.

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Davey trailed his family as they walked back to the car across the beach parking lot.  Davey stopped frequently to check on the black goldfish circling in the plastic bag clutched in his hand.  All of Davey’s previous fish had been orange – Coke and Pepsi, Seven and Seven, Jack and Bobby.  This was his first singleton and he was determined to keep it alive for more than the usual week or two.


When they’d arrived at Bayville this morning Pop set up the beach umbrella for Ma, who needed shade for her pale, freckled skin.


“Redheads burn easily,” Ma said, sitting upright in a chair, wearing big sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat, her book resting atop the cooler that held lunch and drinks and the two bags of ice that Pop had bought at the corner gas station at the start of their short drive to the North Shore.


Pop and Juicy watched the sun for a few minutes before setting their lounge chairs at the perfect angle to maximize rays and minimize the need to move as the sun tracked across the sky.  They took off their shirts and plopped down for a good long bake.  Even though it was early in the season, each was well on the way to the deep walnut tan they maintained through the summer.


Davey carefully spread his beach towel upwind of the grownups to avoid the inevitable cloud of smoke.  Sure enough, as soon as everyone settled in Ma reached for her pack of Newports, Pop for his Luckies and Juicy fired up the cigar stump that hadn’t left his mouth all morning.


Davey walked the waterline, collecting shells and stones for his collection, but only after he suffered Ma to slather him in suntan lotion.  Pop and Juicy swam in the Sound, racing each other from one lifeguard stand to the next.  They all returned for lunch as Ma handed out salami sandwiches on rye with mustard, potato chips and fruit.  There was beer for Ma and Juicy and Coke for Davey and Pop.  After lunch the adults dozed while Davey read a few chapters in his library book.


On the way back to the car, Juicy suggested they stop at the arcade and play a few midway games.  Davey looked longingly at the goldfish toss where a single black fish swam amongst the endless globes of orange.


‘You like that fella?” Juicy asked. Davey nodded.  “I’ll win him for ya.”


Now Juicy fell back to walk with Davey.


“Got a name for that handsome fish?” Juicy asked.  “He’s a special fish, so he needs a special name.”


“They die so quick,” said Davey.


“Maybe not, if he has a powerful name,” said Juicy.


Ma looked over her shoulder and motioned for Davey to hurry up.


Juicy bent to whisper in Davey’s ear.  “Know what that means?”


Davey shook his head.


Juicy bent and spoke again behind his hand.


Davey raised the fish to eye level.


“Muerto,” he whispered, smiling widely.

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copyright (c) 2010 Lulubelle B

Bare Bear

a Davey's Family story

500 words based on a sentence selected by Dive. Click here for more info.

This week's sentence is from Garrison Keillor's "Radio Romance":  So what happened to Hoyt Buford?

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“Can I go read until dinner’s ready?” Davey asked.

Ma’s parents, Bubbie and Grandpa, were visiting. The hors d’ oeuvres were long gone, but dinner was still cooking.


Ma and Bubbie talked quietly in the kitchen. Pop and Grandpa sat in the club chairs in front of the big picture window in the living room, smoking cigarettes and making awkward conversation. Davey fidgeted on the sofa.


“No, you may not hide in a book while we have company. Why don’t you take Bubbie and Grandpa upstairs and show them your room?” Ma said.


“Do you wanna see my room?” Davey asked, less than enthusiastically.


“Of course we do, dear,” said Bubbie, beckoning Davey and Grandpa toward the stairs. Pop heaved himself out of his chair, ground out his cigarette in a glass ashtray and followed them upstairs.


Davey led the way, opening the door to his small bedroom, then standing aside to let his grandparents enter first. His room was neat as a pin, books stacked, clothing put away, bed made . Bare Bear sat in the place of honor, centered against the bed pillow.


“It’s lovely, dear” said Bubbie. “Everything in its place. You’re such a good boy.”


“And how’s Bare Bear these days?” Grandpa asked.


“Grandpa, do you like Bare Bear?” Davey asked. “Sergeant Buford sent him from Florida.”


“That’s a name we haven’t heard in a while. So what happened to Hoyt Buford?” Bubbie asked Pop. “You don’t mention him much since you got out of the service.”


“Married a local girl. Moved to Florida.” Pop said with a shrug. “Sent the bear when Davey was born.”


“And why does Bare Bear look so sad, Davey?” Bubbie asked. “He seems a little worse for the wear.”


“I took him outside to read last week and Patch, the dog from next door, grabbed him.  I grabbed him back, but his arm came off and some of his insides came out.” Davey said. “Ma sewed him back up and he’s ok, mostly, I guess.”


“Well, I think Bare Bear needs a trip to the doll hospital in New York . They can get him all fixed up, good as new,” said Bubbie.


“We can take him home with us tonight,” Grandpa agreed, “and bring him back in a few weeks when he’s all better.”


Pop sighed loudly from the doorway “You’re getting too big for a teddy bear, son.”


“But he’s my friend. Any your friend gave him to me,” Davey said.


The kitchen time rang loudly. Ma called out, “Dinner’s ready!”


Bubbie headed to the kitchen to help Ma bring dinner to the table. Pop stomped downstairs, lighting a cigarette Ma would insist he put out before sitting down.


Grandpa lingered in Davey’s room, putting a comforting arm around the boy. “Don’t worry, dear. We’ll convince your Pop. Bare Bear will come home with us, I promise. They’ll even give him a ribbon to wear around his neck and he won’t be Bare Bear anymore.”

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copyright (c) 2010 Lulubelle B