I finished it faster than I thought so I just deleted the earlier segments and put the whole short story here.
The Most Extraordinary Adventure of an Otherwise Ordinary Goldfish
Dedicated to Niel Gaiman
A goldfish swam in a plastic bag with five other goldfish. They where all identical as far as any one could see, (including each other) save for this one which had a small nip taken out of its tale. The man who bought the goldfish did not notice this defect. Nor did the other five goldfish who paid little attention to, well, to anything really for they where only goldfish. Even the the goldfish himself only noticed a momentary twinge from time to time when his tail brushed the wall of the bag. He did not recall why or how his tailed had gotten nicked for he did not even remember being bought and brought home by the man; let alone what adventures a goldfish might have had before then.
This small defect may have made him the most interesting of all goldfish (and thus the subject of this story) but he was still just a goldfish. And so for now he was quite boring. He swam this way, and he swam that way and never could he tell one from the other. His bag was on a white shelf that needed dusting but he had no concept of dust and thought a layer of silt there quite natural. Next to his bag there was a fish tank, and from time to time he saw a much larger fish that frightened him. It seemed quite scary and tried to get at the six smaller fish. Upon seeing it the goldfish swam the other way and forgot about it entirely. This happened many times that afternoon.
As the day turned to evening and to night and the fish had gone this way and that way so many, many times that it could not remember; there came upon the fish a most peculiar feeling. He started to notice things and to remember them as he went to and fro. He noticed that the shelf was part of a room, that this room had a window, a couch, a TV, a lamp and several bookcases filled with (for example) movies, books, nicknack's, a large fish tank with, of course, his own bag of feeder goldfish. Most of all however he noticed the window, through which he could see a bright and full moon shining down on him. The goldfish could never recall seeing a full moon before but he felt it call to him. A deep pulling on tides he had never thought himself big enough to contain. But now he did feel he was big enough, big enough for anything he wanted. The fish in the tank did not seem so menacing now and the plastic bag expansive enough for a life time of this waying and that waying now pressed in upon him on all sides. Squeezing him in, suffocating him. He pushed out with his fins, bursting the bag. His five companions fell to the ground flopping in misery but not he. His gills burned on the sides of his head but the moon called for him to live, breath, run and kill and he did. He pulled great gobs of air into his mouth and the feeling of his gills subsided. He thought to himself that the water here was miraculously thin, and delicate and felt wonderful through his fur. He did not remember having fur nor remembering in general but he did have memory now, and he remembered the call of the moon. With a swift swipe of his paw he crushed the tank with the predator fish he once feared and he howled his victory. He howled to the moon, to the air, to the fur and to all the other predator fish out there he would smash upon the floor with his paws.
A man rushed into the room. The goldfish did not recognize him from earlier that day but that is only fair for the man did not recognize the the goldfish. Standing five foot at the shoulder, hair bristling and fangs bared against the man. The goldfish smelled fear, and heard the ebb and tide of blood hammering in the mans veins, it sounded like the moons call but faster, and frantic. It sounded delicious. With no more thought the goldfish sprung upon the man and tore at his throat clawed at his chest. Tearing and rending till the delicious sound of the veins stopped and the beating heart stilled. Once hunger subsided he exercised another craving. The goldfish sprung through the window giving little head to the shattering glass. He was in a forest dark, mysterious and full of beautiful noises. Delicious noises, frightening noises that he had never heard before; but he want to see what made them all.
He ran through the woods and across fields all night. Stopping to taste in this noise or that. He chased the small animals to their holes and dug his claws into sod and tree and flesh alike to see how it felt, how it yielded to his might. Stopped to drink at a pond and wondered that once such a place was all he knew. But most of all he ran. He ran chasing the moon across the sky, he ran till his legs burned and howled out the joys of such pain. He ran up hills and twice as fast down. He ran this way and that and he remembered it all. He ran chasing the moon with the cold night wind whipping through his fur and whistling in his ear. He ran all night.
Till at last, on the top of the highest hill he could find, he felt the sun rise on his flanks and watched the moon sink away on the horizon. He was sad to see it go, but had no fear. Now that he had fur, and claws and strength. Now that he could see such things, smell such fragrances and hear so many beautiful noises; now that he could remember! Oh the world was his to take by the throat. But in the middle of his revere a strange feeling came over him. He felt week, and tired suddenly. He lay down to nap but could not fall asleep, he had trouble breathing. No fur protected him from the wind and he could no longer hear the wonderful noises; his gills burned and his fins could find no purchase in this water. He knew something was horribly wrong, but he could not remember what.