The Belly of the Fish

Submitted into Contest #206 in response to: Write about someone facing their greatest fear.... view prompt

37 comments

Drama Sad Inspirational

Biting down forcefully on her lower lip, Dinah stepped the ball of her foot onto the cold, wet sand. The touch of the small grains under her feet for the first time in forty years made her catch her breath. She could feel the deep-seated memories trying to push their way out. Push their way, not out of her mind, but out of her heart.


A seagull made a long call above her and she peeked up for the first time, trying to avoid the vast body of water in front of her. Focus on the bird. Focus on the bird. Squinting, she looked up at the gull flapping its wings above her. She could see a small fish in its mouth. Perhaps a mullet? Ridley would sometimes use mullets for bait when he went fishing here. He’d wake up before the sun rose and be home by breakfast, always bragging about his catch of the day. Grouper. Tilefish. Black Sea Bass. Red Snapper. She’d once known all the fish species found in the Outer banks. Now, she could only recall a few. Now, she couldn’t even stand the sight of the word fish on a restaurant menu.


Finally lowering her vision, Dinah regarded the ocean, her fingers and toes tingling at the titanic sight. The frothy water, green with silt, crashed onto the uneven shoreline. Closing her eyes tightly, the briny smell of the sea air engulfed itself into her nostrils without an invitation. That’s how it always was, wasn’t it? This ocean. This air. They didn’t ask permission. They had no manners.


The sound of waves crashed so loudly; her thoughts were redirected towards the water. She listened as the fizz of foam seeped ashore and spread itself across the sand. Had the sound not been there when she’d stepped onto the beach earlier? Or had she just muted it out? She guessed it was the latter. But anything was possible at the beach.


A child’s laughter floated past her left shoulder. Mommy, can we build a sandcastle? Dinah twisted her head to the side. Jonah? She searched for the toddler but only saw a vast, empty beach. No children were here today. Not real nor ghosts. No…that was a silly thought. It must have been the wind.


“Good evening,” a man’s voice called from behind her. Startled, Dinah jumped as she turned around to see where the voice was coming from. It was mid-February. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone at the beach on such a cold, windy, late afternoon.


“Didn’t mean to frighten you,” a man in a bright yellow puffer jacket said. He gripped a fishing pole in his right hand, and a bucket, holding a tackle box, in his left.


“It’s okay…” Dinah said hesitantly, eyeing the man suspiciously. What is a fisherman doing at the beach in the middle of winter? she speculated.


“I’m hoping to catch a striped bass or two,” the man said, gesturing towards the ocean as if Dinah were a child, unable to figure out where fish came from. “The colder temperatures draw the bass into shallower waters. They sometimes hang around until April.” He shrugged before giving a shy grin.


The smile Dinah forced back made her cheeks hurt. The cold, salty air made the deep grooves on her face feel as if they may crack open. “Well good luck I guess,” she said, wishing he would walk as far away from her as possible. She didn’t want any spectators while she faced her fear. And she knew she wouldn’t have the nerve to come back tomorrow. She only had today.


“I’ll need it,” the man said as he walked past her and headed to the right. She was glad he hadn’t commented on her attire. Glad he’d ignored the crazy old lady, donning bare feet and a linen dress to the beach in the winter. Because if he’d asked her why she was dressed the way she was…. how would she have responded?


“I haven’t caught any yet this winter. But you only need one. Am I right?” He didn’t turn around as he spoke. He just kept walking. And walking.


Dinah held her breath in tightly while she watched him go. Willing him to walk far out of sight. She was as still as a statue until his yellow puffer jacket became a tiny dot. And then, she relaxed her shoulders a little. Maybe he knew she wanted her space. Or maybe, he just liked that spot to fish. She’d never know.


She bit down on her lip again, tasting the salty air as if she’d dipped her lips directly into the ocean water. She took one step forward, almost losing her balance.


I should have brought my walker, she thought as she took another step closer towards the water. She’d left it back in the car. Naïve to the deep pockets in the sand. How easily they’d been forgotten. How easily anything could be forgotten if you tried hard enough.


She reached her hand up and rubbed her palm on the back of her neck. The salty air was making her skin itch and she needed something to lean on. Needed to rest her clammy palms upon…something. Needed to stop the shaking in her hands. Needed to grip onto something as tightly as she could.


Scanning the panoramic view, she saw the waves crash evenly with no breaks. No rip currents, she thought as she closed her eyes, seeing the darker, narrow gap in the line of breaking waves behind her eyelids. The areas where waves are stuck between regions with larger wave breaks. She didn’t have to try very hard to envision these currents. They came to her every night while she slept. Through dreams. Through nightmares.


Rip currents can form at any beach with breaking waves and can quickly sweep away even the strongest swimmer, a voice whispered to her right shoulder. Opening her eyes, she searched for the voice, but was only met with the seagull. She watched as it flew down next to her, placing the half-eaten fish in front of her feet as if offering a sacrifice.


“You eat it,” she said, kicking the fish back over towards the bird. She stared as the bird stepped towards her another inch. Studying her as if she were an exhibit at a museum.


And then, to her surprise, the seagull waddled a few inches towards the ocean, it’s eyes intently glued on Dinah’s as if offering something else to her.


“Follow you?” she asked. She placed one foot in front of the other.


The seagull took four more steps and darted its glassy, loyal eyes back to Dinah. She followed. It stepped again. She followed. She followed. She followed. I can do this, she thought, now standing inches away from the waves. Her eyes, taking in the enormous belly of water in front of her.


Her mother had told her it was foolish to name her son after a prophet who was swallowed by a fish. “Why don’t you name him Aaron, mountain of strength? Or Elijah, the strong Lord?” she’d suggested, when Dinah had mentioned the name to her before she’d given birth. But Dinah had liked the correlation between the name and the sea. Dinah didn’t believe in cursed names.


The seagull submerged its talons into the water and Dinah gripped her arms over her stomach. The gull was so brave. So trusting. It had never had its only child taken by a rip current. Never lost the love of its life. Never moved hundreds of miles away from the ocean, unwilling to even stomach the sight of it ever again.


But its eyes, its eyes were still on her. Inviting her in with it. She glanced back at the half-eaten fish behind her. Forgotten by the bird. Or maybe, just placed aside for later. It had more important things to do right now.


“Okay,” she whispered to the gull. “Okay, I’m coming.” She closed her eyes and dipped her right toe into the belly of the fish. 

July 07, 2023 19:16

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37 comments

Bruce Friedman
23:44 Jul 07, 2023

Beautiful lyrical language. A pleasure to read.

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Kathleen Fine
18:08 Jul 09, 2023

Thank you so much Bruce!

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Ty Warmbrodt
00:29 Jul 12, 2023

Beautifully written and touching story, Kathleen! I aspire to write like this someday. Your descriptiveness really absorbs the reader. Loved the story.

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Kathleen Fine
13:07 Jul 12, 2023

Thank you so much Ty!

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Lily Finch
04:05 Jul 10, 2023

Kathleen, such a lovely story with a smooth delivery. Well done with descriptions and delivery. LF6

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Kathleen Fine
16:57 Jul 17, 2023

Thanks Lily! <3

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Zeeshan Mahmud
03:57 Jul 09, 2023

You write as if painting words. Beautiful and idyllic. Also noticed birds in others stories.

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Kathleen Fine
18:09 Jul 09, 2023

Wow what a compliment! Thank you Zeeshan!

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David King
22:07 Jul 08, 2023

Whoaaa...your writing is so smooth. You're able to write in detail without being overbearing. You gave just the right amount of information to allow me to "watch" this story as I read!! Great job!

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Kathleen Fine
18:09 Jul 09, 2023

Thank you David!

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14:28 Dec 06, 2023

Woah, I love this! You definitely used the “show, don’t tell” phrase. I loved being able to indicate what happened. Pleasure to read :]

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Shannon C.
19:07 Jul 26, 2023

This story just flowed so very well. I could almost feel the salty air on my skin with your descriptions. Such a bittersweet and lovely story!

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Stephen Hansen
02:00 Jul 21, 2023

A perfect story. In ancient Rome and Greece, almost nothing was undertaken unless birds “sanctioned” it. Well done!

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Barbara Arbogast
19:45 Jul 20, 2023

Beautifully descriptive story. Loved your word choices. Well done.

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Russell Mickler
15:06 Jul 18, 2023

Hi Kathleen! The opening para contains relatable sensations and feelings with a good setup for your conflict. Lists of fish, great. Everyone loves lists these days :) Still, I'm not sure how the list of fish relates to your conclusion. You already have a good list with the fisherman dialogue. I did like the personification of the ocean air; the slow trickle of information revealing Dinah's age; the emotion, needing something to grip onto, tightly; masterful. The _voice_ was startling and unexpected. Attributed to the gull? Confusing th...

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Ken Cartisano
04:33 Jul 18, 2023

Like Helen Smith, I thought she was attempting suicide--because, you mentioned what she was wearing, she was worried that the fisherman might ask her what was on her mind. No shoes and a linen dress at the beach, in winter. Perfect attire, if you intend to drown or freeze to death. And she left her walker in the car. Suicide was not left open to interpretation, you encouraged the reader to assume as much. All things considered, the writing is lovely.

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Kathleen Fine
10:53 Jul 18, 2023

Yes I like your interpretation and it makes sense!

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Linda Lovendahl
21:34 Jul 17, 2023

Just enough detail to keep us intrigued until the end when the puzzle of motivation is complete. Thanks Linda

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Helen A Smith
08:07 Jul 16, 2023

A well-written story that flows. On the one hand, the MC appears to be both facing her fears, but also ending her life scurrying losing so much. That was how I read it. The destructive might of the ocean is evident, as is the evidence of how little control we humans have over the bigger things of life. Beautiful language her Kathleen.

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Kathleen Fine
16:58 Jul 17, 2023

Thanks Helen! I intended not for her to end her life, but to just enter the ocean, as she hadn't been in it for 40 years, which was a huge feat for her. But it is interesting you interpreting it that way! Like art, writing is interpreted by the viewer!

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Helen A Smith
17:25 Jul 17, 2023

Ah, yes. I see what you mean. I like the idea of it being open to interpretation.

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Kevin Logue
06:52 Jul 16, 2023

Captivating Kathleen, the sad tension just ebbed in from the get go. Love how you anthropomorphised the ocean, it doesn't ask for permission, its smells fill your nose without invite, all creates the sense that your MC is a victim of its abuse before it is revealed. Bravo 👏 Good luck this week... Not that you need it!

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Kathleen Fine
16:58 Jul 17, 2023

Thank you Kevin!

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Ellen Neuborne
20:14 Jul 15, 2023

I love the pacing of this story. You roll out the details so that the tragedy of the past and the tragedy that's about to happen emerge without feeling rushed. Nicely done.

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Kathleen Fine
16:58 Jul 17, 2023

Thanks Ellen!

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Amanda Rantanen
02:26 Jul 14, 2023

I really liked these sentences: Closing her eyes tightly, the briny smell of the sea air engulfed itself into her nostrils without an invitation. That’s how it always was, wasn’t it? This ocean. This air. They didn’t ask permission. They had no manners.

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Kathleen Fine
16:58 Jul 17, 2023

Thank you Amanda!

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Emma D
21:57 Jul 12, 2023

As many others have said in the comments, your writing is so beautiful and lyrical! It flows so smoothly and naturally! I really admire it, and I hope to write like you someday!

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Kathleen Fine
16:58 Jul 17, 2023

Thank you so much!

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Angela Ginsburg
10:15 Jul 12, 2023

This is really speaking to me, as I had a brush with a riptide recently, and I wrote this week about despair as a bird. I think there may be some symbolism in the bird that I’m not confident about, but I really like the idea of her facing her fear of the ocean to end a life she’s done with. If you can stand me giving a couple of word-level (maybe typo) suggestions: you have deep seeded for deep seated in the first paragraph and then later you have adorning when you might mean donning.

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Kathleen Fine
13:07 Jul 12, 2023

Angela thank you so much! No matter how many time these eyes look over something, there is always an error! :)

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Michał Przywara
20:33 Jul 10, 2023

That she had suffered from the ocean was immediately clear, and we assumed that meant she had lost a loved one to it. Later we learn it's worse, as it was both her child and spouse. No wonder she moved. There's a Biblical side to this, given her son was named Jonah and considering the title (and ending) of the story, though I'm afraid I'm not too familiar with the source material. The fish specifically seems to be about forgiveness. We understand that Jonah will never return, but perhaps Dinah will (forgive herself) after "3 days and 3 nig...

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Kathleen Fine
13:07 Jul 12, 2023

Thanks as always Michal!

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Mary Bendickson
19:07 Jul 09, 2023

So loathsome yet so inviting. Thanks for reading and liking my tacos story.

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Kathleen Fine
13:07 Jul 12, 2023

You’re welcome Mary! I enjoyed it!

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