Bowl Monologue

r wondered what's like to be a fish in a bowl? Well I did, rather frequently. I imagined them floundering around speedily, determinedly, yet going nowhere because bowls are limited. Fish were quite like me in that sense, trapped in the present with nowhere to go. And the present, wasn't very satisfying.

I could no longer deny it, I was a motherless child. I assumed only the old and sick died, but apparently death is indiscriminate. Death doesn't care whether a person is young, beautiful, and needed- it takes whoever it wants.

At the cathedral, people were sardined in the seats- shoved and squeezed together like biscuits in an oven. I couldn't understand why father would invite so many people, I wanted a private ceremony, not a bloody community event. A gathering of close relatives and a few friends would've pleased me, but instead all of Camden attended my Mum's funeral. I sat next to a pair of elderly ladies with massive, tall black hats. I

No homicides, conspiracies, or unsavory plot twists, it was nothing more than a tragic accident. Exactly five days after her disappearance, Mum was found three miles from our house by a lady, Emily Lotridge. Ms. Lotridge fainted from the sight of her and as soon she woke, she alerted Father.

In some ways, It was all my fault. Had I been awake, I would've surely stopped Mum dead in her tracks. What absolutely killed me was my lack of words, it would've been nice to remind Mum of my love for her one last time. I should've appreciated her more, like when she spared some of her own rations to make me pancakes and bring me back a gift from the city. It's so easy to forget how much someone means to you.

My eyes drifted towards Mum's coffin, and it took all my restraint not to run through the isles, open the coffin, and embrace her corpse. I actually might've done that, if it weren't for my conscience advising me not