The scales of the moonbow fish
Issue eight: flash fiction by Jamie Lackey
This luminous piece of flash fiction delves into the the depths of what a person might be willing to do capture a piece of ephemeral magic for their own use. It also reminds us of the price we must pay.
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Moonbow fish dwell deep in the ocean, deeper even than the rocky shelves where pearl divers, like your mother, seek their shining treasures. Their scales shimmer even there, catching and magnifying the wisps of light that penetrate the crushing depths.
No, I don’t know why your mother never tried to catch one when she was healthy. She should have seen them below her, from time to time. But perhaps she never bothered to look.
Or perhaps she tried, and failed, and shame kept her silent.
Individual moonbow fish are small and quick, so even though their schools are vast, they are nearly impossible to catch. Their fins and their brilliant scales are razor sharp, and no net can hold them.
A spear will do you no good. Even if you could hit one, the scales are as tough as they are beautiful, and blows glance off of their luminous flanks.
If you wish to catch one, you must dive deep, deeper than most people can, and you must hold very still while the cold seeps into your bones, while the water compresses every inch of your body. You must wait till the boldest moonbow fish comes to investigate you, to discover the nature of this invader from above. You must grab it with two gloved hands. Then you must kick for the surface with all your might while the fish writhes against your grip.
Your gloves will shred before the water shades from darkness to pale blue. Your blood will cling to the moonbow fish’s scales, but more will billow out into the water, drawing sharks from miles away.
Yes, it hurts. How could it not? The scales cut deep. Some never again regain the full use of their hands.
The captured moonbow fish will grow weaker as you near the surface. They are creatures of darkness and depth, and cannot survive so close to the light. Hold it tight as it begins to fray, to unravel, to dissolve between your bloody, wrecked palms.
Scales will float all around you. You will want to stop, to look, to marvel, even as your lungs scream for air.
But you must keep swimming. The sharks will be coming.
When you reach the surface, if you reach the surface, all that will remain of the moonbow fish will be a few glittering scales lodged in your palms.
Each one will be unique, like a snowflake, and beautiful. More beautiful than you can imagine. Just seeing them in the sunlight, even covered with blood, will feel like a miracle. And they will give you power.
Perhaps it will be the power to save your mother. Perhaps it won’t. Magic is unpredictable.
You wish to see my palm?
No, child.
No, you won’t ignore the scales and just examine the scars. No one could.
If you do catch a moonbow fish, you must not ever let another see your hard-won scales. Do not ever remove your gloves in the presence of another. Not even if you love them. Not even if you trust them.
Not even if you’ve used your powers to save them.
Not even if your mother begs.
I thought my own child could never hurt me, but I was wrong. Moonbow fish scales and the power they give cannot be stolen, only destroyed. She knew that, and still, as soon as she was strong enough, she chopped off my left hand.
No, I don’t know where she got the axe.
No, I will not help her again. I will not forgive her.
That is enough, now. No more questions. You will succeed or you will fail. You are strong and steady, and perhaps you will also be quick and tenacious and lucky.
But if you do catch a moonbow fish, promise me that you will never sleep in your mother’s presence again. Even if you keep your gloves on.
Go on, now, child. Good luck.
The moonbow fish await.
Jamie Lackey lives in Pittsburgh with her husband and their cats. She has over 200 short fiction credits, and has appeared in Daily Science Fiction, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, and Escape Pod. She has a novella and two short story collections available from Air and Nothingness Press. In addition to writing, she spends her time reading, playing tabletop RPGs, baking, and hiking. You can find her online at www.jamielackey.com.
Lovely!
What a wonderful and unusual story!!