Write about anything
When writing about anything the choices are vast and sometimes the only limitation is what you can imagine.
So imagine this,
When I woke this morning I was staring at a small eel, this eel stared at me with these glowing eyes, he was obviously an electric eel. Electric eels are something I’ve thought about, mostly because of cartoons as a kid.
This particular eel’s eyes were green, they stared at me as he hovered in the air which was a weird thing to see since it was morning and I don’t remember going to sleep in an ocean last night.
His look meant something, but I’m not sure what, because honestly I’d never considered speaking to an eel, who would.
“I’m lost, can you help me get home?” The eel said.
Which was another weird thing, because I’d never heard of an eel talking.
“Where’s your home?” I said, trying to be as friendly as I could to me new eel friend.
“It’s an aquarium across town.” the eel said.
The only aquarium I knew of on the other side of town had one eel, and his name was Frank. So I thought this eel must be Frank, what else would I think?
“Are you Frank?” I asked, just to make sure.
“Oh yes, I am. I don’t know how I got out of my tank, but I need to get back. My scales are drying and I don’t have the same spark I used to.” Frank said.
I immediately put Frank in a large bucket I use just for these occasions, well I use it for painting, but Frank fit perfectly.
We drove to the aquarium with him talking about the other fish, more gossip about who was dating who, that kind of thing. It’s Las Vegas, it happens.
When I pulled up the aquarium, twenty people rushed my car. Not something I was used to and I honked the horn. This honking frightened Frank and his water sent out a few sparks, which in any other instance would have been cool, but in my little Pinto it could mean life or death.
I got out of the car, bucket in hand, handed him over to one of the officials of the aquarium. They thanked me and asked me not to tell anyone he escaped.
I promised I wouldn’t but how often do talk to an eel named Frank that is hovering next to your bed at seven in the morning on a Saturday.
Brian B. Baker is an unpublished writer of Science Fiction/Fantasy and Horror. He’s been writing short stories since high school, and is certain it’s one of the few things that keeps him sane. Brian blogs at The Bleeding Inkwell.