Living Our Dying Writing Competition

I am delighted to have won the writing competition organised by Autumn Voices in partnership with Playspace Publications and Rymour Books and inspired by the Living Our Dying book and project - see https://playspacepublications.com/living-our-dying/

The competition was for a piece of poetry, short story or short memoir of no more than 500 words on the theme of Living Our Dying. My piece - Fleeto's Funeral - won the competition and I was also invited to read a second piece of my writing of my own choice. As the first piece revolved around the death of a goldfish, I chose for my second piece another flash-fiction story about a goldfish! Both stories are replicated below. I hope you enjoy.

Fleeto’s Funeral       by Tom Langlands

It was the death of a goldfish thirty years ago that changed my perception of life and death. Our children were seven and five years old when Fleeto was found floating upside down in the fish-tank. I don’t think it was their first pet to have died but it was the first when they were old enough to understand better the concept of death. 

A mix of sadness and morbid curiosity prevailed as Fleeto’s lifeless body was removed from the tank in a small net. A discussion followed about why we couldn’t keep a dead goldfish and the options for disposing of it. With the possibility of flushing it down the toilet being met with consternation it was agreed that Fleeto be buried in the garden. 

So it was that on a warm, summer day a hole was dug, flowers were picked and the family gathered to witness Fleeto’s mortal remains being placed in the ground along with some petals, bits of grass and anything else the children deemed appropriate. Following some kind words about the joy Fleeto had brought us all the hole was filled in. Shortly afterwards life returned to normal and the children were soon playing happily in the garden.

Later that afternoon, our youngest appeared in the kitchen with a puzzled face, 
“Mum, you know you said Fleeto had gone to heaven.”
“Yes, darling,” replied my wife.
“Well he hasn’t. We dug him up. He’s still there.” 

In that instant I knew that in an effort to explain the demise of a pet we had perpetuated one of the myths of death. Grief is an inevitable part of parting but our well-intentioned approach that sunny but sad, summer day has troubled me for thirty years. We sold the children the philosophical concept, adopted by some world religions, that the body and soul are different things. They were too young to understand and for them the easy test of proof was to dig the goldfish up. Further attempts to explain what must have seemed an obvious lie only dug the proverbial hole deeper. 

Since then I have struggled to accept the philosophical or religious explanations of what constitutes life, the soul or consciousness and how it is married to a physical entity that inevitably dies. I cannot accept that the sole purpose of life is to pave the way for some unprovable, future existence. For me life is not a linear process with a beginning and an end. The atoms that form our being are replaced many times during our lifetime and in the main they are eternal. They will continue to exist in other living and non-living things after we die - just as they did before we were born. The life forms they give rise to will die but the process of life is eternal. Fleeto is and was a manifestation of eternal life. Certainly, that is more important than his death and truly is something worth celebrating.

******

(For anyone wondering about the title of this next piece a limerent is someone who has an obsessive infatuation with another person manifesting itself as an all-consuming, romantic passion giving rise to persistent, intrusive thoughts)  

The Limerent and The Goldfish       by Tom Langlands

I have a goldfish named Hawn. Goldie seemed too obvious a choice. I positioned her bowl in front of the television once and I let her watch There’s a Girl in My Soup. She seemed indifferent towards the film but when the cat food commercials came on she got agitated. I don’t know how to sex a goldfish but Hawn is definitely a ‘she’. I bought her five years ago.

It has rained every day for a week and last night it was torrential. Today was better. It was a good day to take Hawn for a walk. After I got her, I pierced her dorsal fin and fitted a tiny ring through the hole to which I tie a length of fishing line. I walk on the pavement and she swims in the gutter. You can tell she enjoys it, her little tail never stops wagging. Sometimes I stop for a coffee in the square and she swims in the fountain.

I took her past the pet shop where first we met. Her golden scales shimmering through a stream of bubbles rising from a plastic shipwreck. I thought of Overboard and I rescued her. She says she doesn’t remember. I think she is suffering from amnesia. Then we went by the medical centre where I go to see my psychiatrist. He says I have an infatuation issue and recommended a pet. That’s when I got Hawn.

At night I place her bowl on my bedside table and then I watch a film in bed. Tonight it’s going to be Shampoo. I must have seen it a hundred times before.

Hawn loves me. She blows kisses at me all night long.  

******