The story below is written by Mel Sutovsky, a student of mine when I taught creative writing in the spring of 2020. It was the best story I saw from any of my students.
The hard smell of salt in the air was around me. I was standing on a little hill made of stone trying to catch as much air as I could in my lungs, with my eyes closed.
It was a warm and sunny day, right next to the beach. My dad was filled with excitement, holding his smartphone, he filmed every little detail. I opened my eyes and looked down – where a weird noise was coming from. It was a small fish stuck between two stones. I remember seeing this kind of fish before, in Greece. I have done a little research on this beautiful creature: the blue, shining fish scales and it’s big human kind eyes… but this one was different, it was red. I assumed it might be poisoned, so I looked around to see if there was anything I could do to save the fish without touching it. A plastic spoon and a jar made of glass were floating near the place where the fish was stuck. I bent over to pick them up when a sharp gust of wind knocked me down and I fell down on a pile of stones.
– Laelle, you okay there?
My dad called anxiously, still filming the whole situation. I nodded and got up on my feet again. Finally, I picked the jar from the water and got the fish inside it using the plastic teaspoon.
I stepped into the sea to set the fish free, opened the jar and let it out. I sighed peacefully and returned to the hill made of stone.
Melody Sutovsky
I asked Melody to re-write it as if it was her grandmother telling her the story because in our class she told me that it was a story from her grandmother’s childhood.
The hard smell of salt in the air was around me. I was standing on a little hill made of stone, trying to catch as much air as I could into my lungs.
My grandma closed her eyes and a big smile appeared on her face. She took a sip from her cup of tea and continued.
It was a warm and sunny day. Daddy, filled with excitement, was arranging a sitting spot for the four of us on the sand, right next to the beach. I opened my eyes and looked down – where a weird noise was coming from. There was a small fish stuck between two stones. I remembered seeing this kind of fish already. The blue, shining fish scales and its big human-like eyes…
Grandma sighed and opened her eyes to meet mine.
But this one was different, it was red. I assumed it might be poisonous, so I looked around to see if there’s anything I could do to save the fish without touching it.
She paused, as if she was trying to remember what happened next. I balanced on the chair in anticipation to hear the rest of her story, like a little child.
So what happened next? I asked, frowning.
A jar made of glass was floating near the place where the fish was stuck. I bent over to pick it up when a sharp gust of wind knocked me down and I fell on a pile of stones.
I winced as if it was me who fell on the pile. But then grandma started to laugh and I joined her.
Daddy ran to me at once. He helped me to get up and started laughing. Although it did hurt a bit.
She smiled sadly, probably remembering her wonderful father.
I picked up the fish and closed the jar carefully. I stepped into the sea, opened the jar, let the fish out and went back up the hill made of stone.
Grandma sighed peacefully and giggled. This had become our family joke: her ‘sacrifice’ for the fish.
I held the tears and forced a smile. Sometimes I wish I knew her at this age. The phone rang and my grandma had to answer it. And just like that, it ended. The fountain of warming memories. Until a new story comes up…