Narnia

Well, well, well. I was such a good NanoPrepChalleng-ist that I completely forgot Contest Round Three until three hours until it's due. So, here I am, panicking and hoping I won't confuse you with circles going around and around and around and around and confusing you with circles because I woke up three hours before the deadline.

It's pretty simple. I have this fish tank. It's about yea-wide, yea-tall, yea-deep. Oh shoot, you can't see me. Let's start at the beginning, as if you were a visitor coming to my my lovely tank. Sarcasm intended.

You ring the doorbell and hear a "OW WROOO WROO WROO!". It sounds like a large killer dog, so you carefully peek into the sidelights. You knew we had some sort of pet, because you're standing right on a "Wipe Your paws" mat outside the front door.

"Charlie!" a girl calls out. She could pass for eleven or twelve, but she's actually older. What's that? Yeah, it's me. You hear a clatter on nails and behold, the Dangerous Killer Dog of Doom is actually fuzzy, black and white, and is scrambling towards the door. You hear a thumps, and catch a glimpse of wild white-rimmed eyes and flying ears as the dog hurtles himself up towards the sidelight to see you. The door flies open and the girl, er, me is standing in front of you with the dog wrestled onto her hip. "Come in," she, uhm, I tell you, setting the dog down and telling him to go into his kennel. The dog reluctantly leaves you.

"This way," I say cheerfully. "I'm Isabelle, sorry." I usually forget my manners when the dog is whining and yelping his head off. I open a door and you peek into.... grey steps. Wood. Grey. Drywall.

"It's in the basement," I assure you, clomping downstairs and making sure you follow. "This is it."

You start at the floor. Concrete. Nothing much there, except buckets of water. You point. "Oh, that's rainwater to put into the tanks. It's better for them." The tank is on a sturdy kitchen table, although, yes, a bit old. It's been around since I was, what? 2? 3?

"It's not a stand, just a table," I tell you, seeing the doubt in your eyes about whether or not this "table" would hold.

Your eyes hit the table surface, but do you see the tank? Nope, it's covered in a fish net, plastic cups, siphons, and damp towels. "Sorry," I laugh, sweeping all the stuff off the front of the table and piling it up on the sides.

Something catches your eye. An orange platy fish is at the front, begging for food. She follows me from the right side of the tank to the left. "That's Whirlaway," I say to you. "Heyyy, Whirly, aren't you a pretty girl?" I coo to her. You give me a strange look.

A bright red streak flashes around in the corner, and you see a gorgeous betta twisting around to bite his own tail. "Passion," I say flippantly, as if he chewed on his own tail every day. (Actually, he does.)

Oooh, What's that? You have the urge to visit the restroom because the filter flowing sounds. There's a filter attached to the back wall, making rushing stream-like, soothing sounds. You ignore the urge and just cross your legs. Oblivious, I point to the other fish.

"Tugger," I tell you, pointing to a pale white angelfish with a pink spot on both of his cheeks. "Ghost, Checkers, Sugar, Spice, Somethingroyal, Squiggles.." I point out to you more angelfish and more catfish.

You wonder how many fish this tank can have. You take a over-all, and the tank is two feet and a half wide, one foot tall, and one foot deep. "Twenty long," I happen to tell you just at the right moment. "Twenty gallons, the style is called 'long'. There's also a 'tall' and such."

There's no smell, until I open a container of fish food and stick my finger in.

"What's that?" you say automatically.

"Fish food." I wave a container. You're not used to the smell, but I sure am. I stick a flake or two onto my finger, and a few of the fish came up and eat it right off my finger. "Somethingroyal.." I begin, then use her "casual name". "Missy loves to climb into my hand."

You laugh, thinking it a funny joke, when a pale pink female betta swims up into my cupped hand, which I'm holding in the water, and settles into my fingers. You laugh even harder and lean close to see her happily drifting back and forth in my hand.

There's a clump of plants in the middle, and you see the red betta... what was his name? Passion settle into those.

"I call this tank Narnia," I say. "Seriously, they're starting to talk."