Elsie’s Tropical Aquarium of Lost Souls by Eleanor Luke
Elsie’s job is to the count the fish. Two graceful guppies containing the souls of her two sisters, their unremarkable grey bodies transformed by brilliant orange tails. One Siamese fighting fish embodies Harry, her only love, a soldier lost in the war. Darling Harry, with his fiery locks and handsome jaw. Ever the gentle giant, escorting five jittery zebra fish around the tank. Back and forth they go.
Elsie’s job is to count the fish but the man in white crocs interrupts her. Says her husband and daughter are coming soon. Says her counting’s too loud and she’ll have to go back to her room. When Elsie screams she’s a virgin so she can’t have a husband or daughter, and anyway, Harry died and now there’s nothing to be done, he tells her to pipe down. She’s bothering the other residents. Last warning, he says.
Elsie’s job is to count the fish, though she suspects it hasn’t always been that way. The flotsam of a life possibly lived bobs on the surface of the aquarium. A red-brick house maybe lived in, maybe loved in. A maybe husband who fed her peaches on sunny afternoons. A maybe daughter with golden hair braided the way only a mother knows. Elsie peers over the edge, searching for something more than the maybes. She plunges her hand in to rescue the shipwrecked before they sink. But white croc man yanks it out, tutting as he mops her memory puddles off the floor.
Elsie’s job is to count the fish, but she does so more quietly now. One slinking catfish, whiskers sweeping the rainbow pebbles as she parades through the depths. Mummy, I miss you, Elsie says. In the background, there are voices. A hand on her shoulder. My darling, my dove, says the man with peaches he’s sliced in quarters. And the girl is a woman now with sensible hair. Elsie reaches out, peach juice dribbling down her chin, and strokes the woman’s cheek because she looks sad. Mummy, I miss you, the woman says and for one second, Elsie almost knows who she is.
But Elsie’s job is to count the fish.
Eleanor Luke lives in Spain with her husband, two teenagers and a small menagerie. Her flash and short stories have appeared in The Birdseed, FlashFlood, among others. Longlist Reflex flash fiction. Placed in top ten Oxford Flash Fiction Prize 2022. When not writing, Eleanor can be found eavesdropping on other people’s conversations or trying not to fall off her bike. Find her at @Eleanor_Luke24 and @eleanor-luke.bsky.social
Image courtesy of dazzledust.and.eco@gmail.com
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“Elsie’s Tropical Aquarium of Lost Souls” is an intriguing story, lovely details and
its very engagi g with its repetitive use of the opening sentence. Clearly Elsie is in a rest home, suffering from some emotional trauma. We want yo know more about her and her past.