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Thursday, August 30, 2012

Portfolio Piece #4: Go Fish

Trying a little something new.  Something I’ve wanted to do for a while.  For the next few days, I will be posting the pieces I submitted for my Writing Minor Portfolio.  They are all from classes I took Sophomore to Senior Year at Keene State College.  Most of them are memoir in nature, but a few are slightly different.  These are pieces I love, but know still need work.  If you would like to know more of the stories behind the pieces, let me know and I will be happy to share!  Also, any and all constructive feedback is always welcome – just because these were the final versions to be submitted doesn’t mean that they are perfect.

Oh, and also?  These are mine.  Do not steal them.  Thanks.

Go Fish
A Dream Story, Written for Cooking, Eating and Dreaming, Junior Year.

“I am a big fish in a teeny-tiny pond.  I need to get out,” I state clearly and plainly to my goldfish.  “You know how it feels, when you outgrow your tank.”  My goldfish swims over to me and swishes her tail in agreement.  “Yes, I do.  By the way… the tank is getting small again.”  I just shrug and turn to face the revolving door in the middle of my bedroom.  “Sorry, Ms. Fish.  Not my problem anymore.”  I push the door…        
            And come out in the Plaza Hotel lobby in New York City.  Everything is black and white, except for the brass door, creaking to a stop behind me.  A piano plays something mellow from the dining room.  The lobby is void of furniture, plants, and and full of a seemingly endless rows of treadmills.  On the treadmills, identical people wearing identical black tracksuits, smooth skin where their faces should be, walk in steady unison.  They all turn their blank faces to me.  There are no empty treadmills, so I have to go.  I turn and push on the door…
            The Chinese Theater in Los Angeles towers over me.  It is abandoned, a breeze gently swaying my skirt, old movie posters scattering at my feet.  I am surrounded by Technicolor, big band music playing from the sky.  I walk over to Judy Garland’s prints, but they are gone.  She has left me a message in the pavement: “Stop trying to be me and find your own way!”  A sob breaks out from my chest as I push my way through the door…
            I land on Appian Way in front of the Keene State College Mason Library.  It is an average fall day, leaves scattered all around, and the perpetual smell of apples surrounds me.  The computerized library bells clang out a Beatles tune.  There is an old woman standing on the stairs to the library, a history book in one hand and a graduation cap in the other.  On the step next to her is the fish tank with my ever growing fish.  The tank is twice the size, but the fish is still the same.  I turn around, but the revolving door has disappeared, a grassy lawn in its place.  I step forward to hug the old woman, take the book and put it in the backpack that has appeared at my feet.  I put the cap on my head, and pick up my fish.  “Yeah, I guess we didn’t really need a bigger tank after all.”

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