Fantasy Friday: Fish Tales, Part V

Nobody came for Kleo. Camp rolled on
And on, into the autumn! Each full moon,
The tropic campers cowered until dawn
As tough and thuggish troutgirls leaped, the doom
Of millions of mosquitoes. Then by day
The cold and greyish water was all theirs
In which to twirl and dance, in which to play,
Forgetting briefly those with whom they shared
That alpine lake. One morning, though, a maid
Tried jumping high, and hit her pretty head
Against the water's surface! She was laid
Out cold. As others tended where she bled
(Lest pike return!), Kleo looked at what she'd hit,
All white and solid. Now, just what was it?

Fantasy Friday: Fish Tales, Part IV

Dear Mom and Dad, can I please come home soon?
This camp is horrible. I'm always cold,
Each morning starts off with a nasty tune
Played on... it's called an antler? And we're told
Just what to do each minute! How's the reef?
How's my seahorse? Don't ride her. Only I
Can ride her, grandpa said. Oh no, our "chief" --
We're all some kind of engines? -- just came by
And said it's time for yet another "trek"
Down to the darker water. I just hate
It here. Oh, and last night I got the "heck"
Beat out of me by trout girls. Now I'm late.
Please send someone to fetch me to the sea.
Signed, love, your Kleo, longing to be free!

Fantasy Friday: Fish Tales, Part III

As Kleo floated, patient, with her pole,
Awaiting, from line's end, that special tug
That said she'd caught a squirrel or chipmunk, whole,
She daydreamed, watching as a caddis-bug
Lay waiting for its dinner, too. It struck
Just as a pebble hit her on her head!
The larva'd grabbed a minnow, but her luck
Was not so good. Sneers sounded; she turned red
In anger and embarrassment. "Hey, check
The ocean girlie out! Ain't she a prize?"
Soon Kleo was surrounded. "Lac-maids! Heck,
I thought you were a myth," she said. Their size
Soon killed all humor, though, as all around
Our Kleo was a school of them. "Let's pound!"

Fantasy Friday: Fish Tales, Part I

It was young Kleo's very first time out
To mermaid camp, far from the ocean blue.
The griffin flight was scary, there's no doubt,
As miles and miles of land took up the view
And they went higher still. The mountain lake
Where camp was set was cold and strange and deep,
But Kleo kept her courage, no mistake,
Until just ere the campers went to sleep
And told each other tales of trout and pike
And beavers! "One attacked me last year!" claimed
Her bunkmate. "He'd have dragged me way down, like,
Beneath his dam!" "Now Bea, you should be shamed!"
Their couns'lor said. "There are none here, don't lie.
But me tell you all of The Walleye!"