The Bizarre Diaries
Entry by Maria:
The fish took me in a very strange place today.
Since the first pages of this diary were eaten by the cataloose, I may have to reiterate the fact that I'm talking about the magical wish-fulfilling golden fish I caught last summer. Quite frankly, I expect this diary to be read by other people, so I don't want them to be confused.
If you, the reader, have by chance stumbled across this diary and don't personally know me, it means I've officially been outlived by a notebook. Mom always said, if you're gonna go running around with lunatics, don't expect to be running for long. And if travelling with a talking magical fish isn't the high point of lunacy, then the world is much stranger than I originally anticipated.
But getting back to point, the fish took me to a genuinely pleasant place for a change.
Wherever we were, we'd fallen just in time for a really nice street festival.
The town's architecture was impressive enough, really elegant and beautifully decorated. However, the effect was emphasised with decorations: the streetlights glowed in hues of red, ribbons were arrayed from window to window across the streets, every shade of red, gold, yellow, orange, lila, violet and blue was used. It was gorgeous.
The natives said it was the "Chase the Sun" festival, a little something to celebrate the coming of summer. Now, I'd like to state the fact that I have nothing against summers. I love summer. Summer is my pagan diety and I sacrifice to it daily. Sure, on this wild ride there may be no school, but that didn't change my strong student instincts. Well, my strong LAZY student instincts, anyway. Quite frankly, the festival was like a physical rendition of how I felt at the beginning of each summer. Perfect. Overjoyed. Red. (Alright, perhaps not red, I just like the colour).
The fish was making small clucking sounds in its plastic bag. Apparently, he disaproved of "such decadence and improper behaviour".
At one point, a native approached me about the fish. People there looked a tad bit weird. Their limbs were long and thin, arms and legs at just about the same length, their skin dark blue and they had absolutely no hair. In fact, I'm pretty sure I was asked a few douzen times if I was willing to sell my hair. I really didn't ask what they intended to do with it after I'd sell it, but I didn't want to ask that questions. I learned many lessons early on and the first lesson was: if something weird happens, don't ask questions. You don't need the trauma.
At any rate, the native asked if I was willing to sell the fish. I was not very surprised at the question, because apparently, on their world, everything is for sale. Nonetheless, I refused saying that it was more trouble than the poor man (at least, I assume it was a man...) deserved.
I'm pretty sure at one point I considered selling the fish. I even told it so.
Then the fish laughed, which is sinister in and of itself because fish can't laugh, and I got shivers down my spine.
"You're going to ruin it for me, aren't you?" I asked it annoyed.
"Nonsense, my dear. I shall do no such thing. But I suggest we leave before the Sungazers arrive."
I had the distinct feeling that the Sungazers, despite their friendly name, were part of one of those cults. You know which. The kind that can really crash a party when they swoop in in their midnight blue robes, exclaim dramatically and start handpickin' people to rip out their hearts as an act of adoration to their benevolent but extremely smite-happy demiurge.
"So, these Sungazers, do their practices involve sacrifices of sentient beings?" I asked, dreading the answer.
"Oh, yes, my dear," the fish replied in dead seriousness. "I'm afraid so."
"Death cults! It always has to be death cults!" I sighed. "Okay, take us out of here."
The fish complied. I felt the familiar tendrils of a different dimension grab me and YANK violently before reality realised that it was cheating and decided to chop off its dirty tentacles.
"So what, they'd have come over and taken exotic strangers to their temple where they'd never be heard from again?" I asked, frustrated. From a fantastic festival to the middle of some swamp. Yeah, great trade-off.
"Oh, no, they were just coming to crack open the alcoholic drinks. They mostly sacrifice people during the winter." I could just feel the fish grin evilly.
"I hate you," I stated calmly, before finding myself sinking knee-deep in muck.
And you know what? I really do hate that fish.