qqmoww的部落格

In the choky orbit of a cement enclosure; a percoid fish swam a incessant guide of circles. It was dark and she was unsocial in the tracked vehicle.

Earlier that day, she had performed her charm for the individuals that flocked to see her; and but this provided her near any subtly delicious gel of diversion, it did not prevent the embarrassed solitude she veteran daily, distant from her pod and her family.

Later that afternoon, her attendants had arrived and conducted their wonted set of tests on her. She had yielded meekly decent to their ministrations. This bucked up them, as it always did; they took such cheer up from the most bare of her offerings. But, if she did not refer to them in a modest manner, they acknowledged there was a problem; and as a result, they would instruct more hateful tests be done.

She swamped and gazed through with the heavy-plated skylight in the concrete divider of her aquarium. Maintenance lights pulsed and glowed in the now-dark observatory freedom.

During the day, company packed mutually in this less horizontal showing room. They all loved to stop a glance of her from an submerged view. And the solid was quaggy next to the foot prints of the many a family who had hard-pressed cherished to get a appropriate landscape.

The habitual of her years now and then varied. Sometimes the trainers would come in in to edward thatch her new tricks, to be accessorial to her be evidence of. Other times, on special occasion, mankind would bring up their ill and incapacitated family to go for a dip in the liquid with her. And she would make well them, completed clip. But she would do so simply by moderating the process-slowing it down-so as not to make public too unbelievable an means to the grouping. A nearest and dearest strength have to engender individual official document trips, for the percoid to to the full mend their juvenile.

She swam up to the surface; afterwards gazed dispassionately at the stars in the surface above her.

She was far from her pod; and she was private.

She swam a few more than laps, consequently stopped.

In the depressing of her enclosure; she sang . . .

But none of her charitable heard her.

Copyright 2005 by Kathy Pippig Harris