User:L'Aquatique/A Fish Named Algernon

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A Fish Named Algernon is a story that I am in the process of writing. I am not a professional writer, and hence A Fish Named Algernon will likely never see publishing, which is actually okay because some of it isn't all that good! However, there are some parts that I do feel are worthy of publishing, so I will post them here. If anyone is particularly interested in reading the finished product, they can contact me and I will send it to them when I am done!

It is important to note that the story is written from the perspective of two different narrators; Erika and Mitchel. The excerpts are organized by narrator.

[edit] Excerpts

[edit] Erika

• One of Mitchel’s favorite songs is about a man whose wife is in the hospital dying. Or, at least that’s what it’s about on the surface. He says that it has deeper meaning, and I’m sure he’s right, but even the surface meaning is a little too deep for me. The singer says, and this always throws me, that “every plan is just a tiny prayer to father time.” (This is a reference to What Sarah Said by Death Cab for Cutie) I didn’t get that until today. We, all of us, spend our lives making plans. We plan dates, we plan love, we plan births, some of us even plan deaths. Trips, jobs, kids, weddings, school. Elections, surgeries, moves, houses, dogs, cats, canaries. Dentists appointments, haircuts, birthdays, hikes. Comings, goings, innings, outings. We plan it all, even plans to ensure that our original plans go as… planned. But all those plans hinge on one very flawed assumption: that nothing between then and now is going to change. The ambitious young girl plans to get into law school, but she accidentally gets pregnant. So she plans to get an abortion but when she gets there she realizes she cannot go through with it. A man plans to go on a trip with his wife, but he gets diagnosed with cancer and dies suddenly. A girl thinks she's got her entire life planned out but all that changes in the split second it takes for a truck to hit her boyfriend on the freeway. So we all make these plans, but are inherently disappointed when they don’t turn out as planned. But just because they don’t end the way we thought doesn’t mean they can’t end well. Maybe that girl will raise her baby with the father and realize that motherhood was all she ever wanted. Maybe the wife of the man will become an activist for cancer research. Maybe Mitchel and I will get our life figured out again, together, or maybe we'll spend the rest of it pondering "what ifs". Maybe, just maybe, it’s our choices, how we choose to handle what fate throws at us, that truly defines us, not the plans we make along the way.

• It’s too late, I know this immediately. The truck skids into our lane, only yards in front of us. Mitchel doesn’t have time to react. Suddenly everything is moving in slow motion, only I am watching all this happen from somewhere outside myself. I see him letting go of the wheel and shielding his face. I see myself grasping for his hand. I see a tiny car on a slick winter road, up against a huge truck screaming 70 miles an hour down the icy asphalt. I see two people out of six billion, in a huge spinning, ignorant world full of dangers unimaginable, that’s about to be two people less and will probably never even notice. And I realize, all in that split second, that we never stood a chance.

[edit] Mitchel

• I flip through the channels, disinterested, until I settle on an infomercial. The man speaks loudly and harshly, declaring that whatever he is touting will drastically reduce the time it takes to wash a load of dishes. The way he talks about it, though, it seems that this man is convinced that it can end all world suffering and do the dishes on its spare time. I wonder what it is, this that can perform such miracles for only $19.95. I wonder why I am wondering such a worthless thing… After all, I know that nothing so momentous arrives in a brown box on your doorstep. My problem is I don’t have any idea where else to look.