Children's

Trout, Trout

A brief story about a trout.

May 26, 2024  |   2 min read

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Anja
Trout, Trout
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He was a trout.

My good friend, James.

I wish I could say he was not, but he was.

Every night, he swims by my house near the lake.

He doesn't say anything.

He's been here for a year or so, at least.

I wonder if there's a reason for that.

Last night, I spoke to him. I did.

Told him, "James."

To which he said nothing.

"James," I said, "James. My good fellow."

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. What a peculiar fellow he was.

"James, I've been thinking."

About what?

"The world, mostly."

What about the world?

"How it keeps on spinning forever."

Wow.

That's how our conversations always went, between James and I. I'd talk, he'd open his mouth, I'd fill in the blanks. We shared laughs, we shared our time.

He was my friend.

Do you want to think about the world?

"No."

Then let's not think about the world.

And we sat in silence.

He'd been ill for a while, James. Old, maybe. I didn't know how old trout got, but it couldn't be that old, and he'd been with us for a while.

"James, do you want to think about the world?"

Not really.

And then I'd feed him. I'd gone to the local pet shop for fish food.

It wasn't something I did often.

Sometimes, I'd dream of us together.

We'd swim in the lake together, and skies of lilac and pink would float past us as we dived into the water.

"James?"

Yeah?

"Are you awake?"

Yeah.

"I wanna see the world sometime.''

Why?

"I heard it's beautiful.''

It's the world. Of course it's beautiful.

"How do you know?"

I live there.

"You do?''

Always have. You do, too.

I'd sit and chat with him until the sun rose again, when James would swim off again to wherever his adventures led him.

He didn't show up today, but I heard him nonetheless. I heard him being silent.

Hi.

"Hi, James. Where are you?"

Hidden.

"Alright.''

So I hid with him. Behind
the trees.

"What are you hiding from?"

People.

"Me, too."

We stuck together through thick and thin, James and I.

I haven't seen him, but I hear him. Always.

"Goodnight, James," I'd say.

Goodnight.

And the sun would rise, and I would wake up alone next to the lake.

Smiling.

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