October 28th, 2019/ 10:00pm/by Megan Gorss
I have lived a hard, short life. These waters are clear and beautiful, but they are brutal – in my first year of life, I have already lost so much. I am NOT weak, but i am smol. One day, i will be strongk. I will be the STRONGKEST.
I never met my parents, but I’ve been told of their valour. How they escaped predators numerous times out of pure spite for the coward known as Death, how they MONCHED aquatic veg and CRONCHED fish and salamanders only barely smaller than i am now (yikes), and how my mother carried my father’s sperm for 2 long years before deciding she was down for real. They gave me very little, save for a good name.
I might meet them one day, but i am not hopeful. I may be an adventurer, but i have traveled for many days and many nights already. I have one mission now – to find my namesake.
I have trained and searched and piddle paddled all around this lake. Not expectant, but steadfast. I could not picture him in my mind’s eye but i was sure that if i ever saw him, i would know. Day-in, day-out, i have searched.
It was CRISP out when I left my little hidey-hole once more to scan for him. I had floated out into the deep blue as I have every day before, when something changed. A commotion. An energy in the water that was new. Is this my end? I have so much adventuring left to do…
I am hoisted from the water by wide, pink flippy flappers. I SHLORP into my shell, prepared to fight but hesitant. I peer into the eyes of the beast before me, fix him with the mean stare I inherited from my pops (i think). A fire rises up inside me, to hell with this monster! I will take a CHONK out of him if it’s the last-
But no – could it be?. I stop, mid CHOMP.
I am in the hand of none other than my namesake. After all this searching, HE has found ME. He smiles mildly down upon me and I feel the fire in my breast spread to a glowing warmth throughout – Is this love? Is this sanctuary?
I have found peace in the arms of my namesake, Tim Bova.
And then – get this – he PLONKS me back into the water! Throws me back to the dogs of the sand and disappears, leaving me to wrestle to this day with the knowledge that while my namesake is real, powerful, and merciful, he will consider me neither friend nor foe. Just a lowly tortle.
My tears are the salt of the lake. I live forevermore by the dock; I search no longer. They call me Tim Bova, Jr., and I was an adventurer.