Needlefish

By Mick Bennett

                                              

I’m sitting cross legged in a tidal pool with my water bottle of vodka and lemon juice when a family of red-headed kids show up and begin to rescue sea grass.

These kids are all around me. They look about a year apart, the oldest maybe nine. I can tell they’re not local. They’re pale and freckled with oversized white T-shirts, running back and forth, hunting for what they call needlefish. They want to catch them and return them to the ocean. Rescue them from suffocation. They crack me up. They’re saving slivers of sea grass.

I’m about out of booze. The problem is the beach cops are by the lifeguard stand shooting the breeze. I could head back to my towel and cooler. But I don’t need the beach cops to see me pour from one bottle into another. We’ve had words. I’ve got time. They’ll move on.

Besides, this tidal pool won’t be here long, and these kids are a hoot. 

The dad’s a few steps north with three girls holding bright pink plastic pails—ambulances for the stranded critters. Two older brothers are the ones on a serious safari. One wears oversized glasses. Elton John in his “Benny and the Jets” days. The other sports American flag bathing trunks. They’re leaning over, searching, when right in front of me Elton jumps to a knee, scoops down two hands, and yells, “Got one!” He dashes to the waves and throws in whatever he caught.
 
A sister wails, “I wanted to see it.”
 

I find a strand of sea grass. It’s brown, as long as a finger, and maybe as wide as a TV cable. I hold it up for her. “Here’s one, honey.” I wiggle the grass, trying to give it life.

She steps closer, but Dad takes charge.

He reaches down and grabs her hand. “Stay away Mary Jane.”

I salute him with my empty bottle. He murders my smile with his stare and directs his brood to move on. The girls follow like ducklings. The boys dash ahead.

The pool’s all mine. Waves slide up on occasion. Most don’t reach me. It confirms my earlier guess. The tide’s going out.

I get a kick out of visitors to the shore who don’t know a thing about the oceans. They ask the guards, “Is the tide coming in or going out?” The answer is yes. Always.

 
THE END

Author Bio: Mick Bennett's short fiction has recently appeared in Flash Frog, Every Day Fiction, Literally Stories, the NFFD Anthology 2023, Porcupine Literary (Pushcart nominated), and others. His fifth novel, “Take the Lively Air,” is forthcoming from Unsolicited Press in September, 2023.