Tale 51- The Transforming Goldfish

 The two walked toward a river on the outskirts of the town, finding a sailor tying his boat up on the bank and whistling to himself. He turned to the two girls with a smile, Sarafelle offering to help as she knew some of the knots from gardening. As the two worked, the Traveler watched Sarafelle’s hands looping the ropes, the same motion every single time, consistent. Her hands were soft, but they were worker’s hands, her movements precise and practiced, much like a dancer or performer, and they repeated the exact motion time and again. Finally, when they were finished, the sailor pointed to the name of his vessel, ‘the buckethead’, and offered to explain the story behind the name. The Traveler eagerly agreeing, Sarafelle amazed at their fortune, and the sailor prepared to tell the story of ‘the Transforming Goldfish’

‘Once there was a young man who inherited a boat from his father. One morning he was cleaning his ship when a violent wave came ashore, knocking a bucket over. Out fell a small goldfish, one which had been trapped in the little container due to the tide going out. The man scooped it up and put it back in the ocean, turning back to his boat. But then he heard something. Turning back, he saw that in place of the goldfish there was now a young girl, maybe around two, who was simply babbling and splashing in the shallows. Frantic, he scooped the kid up- only for her to transform into a fish. Now worried, he adopted the girl and ensured she always had water by her in case she was ever to transform, which would happen at random on numerous occasions. Despite them living happily together for years, the sailor knew the girl dreamt of the open ocean, desperately longing to swim away, so when she was old enough he summoned his courage and let her swim away, back into the deep she so craved. Nowadays, she visits him occasionally, telling her father of all the adventures she’s had, and they often sail together on the buckethead, named after his little nickname for her.’

The sailor smiled at Sarafelle, before noticing the Traveler had sat down and begun to write. “She’s a collector of tales.” Sarafelle explained, the Traveler looking up and then away, a little shy. Gently, Sara smiled and helped her to stand once she was finished, the two waving goodbye to the sailor and walking off, still a little shaken by the revelations of the previous night but on good terms nonetheless. Hand in hand, the two kept on walking, heading into the forest and toward the hills.

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