# A book I've been working on



## rubinthebetta (Oct 9, 2012)

It's basically a book from the fish's point of view. Hence the name, Through the Fish's Eyes. I'm considering publishing it when I'm done, but I'm not sure. You can look at it and give me all the advice you want. Here's the first bit!


*Taliah*​ I struggled to stay at the bottom of my cold, dark, filthy prison. I hated it here. My father had promised a large tank, an easy life filled with riches and glory. After all, I was practically a princess! I deserved the best. I deserved to be in a big tank, my once midnight blue fins shining gloriously in the light. 
Yet the human had pulled my father out of our tank, and then us fry, too. We were separated. Put into little jars, crammed in tight. I was furious! But Clarissa, a young, white female betta in a nearby jar soothed me. She said that I wouldn’t be here long. I would soon get my human that would be ordered for me, and they would cater to my every need.
Or I would stay with the current human and be used for things unknown to most or just stay for pleasure. The last option was to be taken away to some odd place where nobody came back from. We had heard horror stories about how dark and cold it was. Stories of little bettas like me being frozen. I decided the first scenario would be preferred. And since my father was a prized show betta, I thought I would get my way.
Clarissa didn’t agree. She had said humans were unpredictable creatures, going on and on in their strange dialect. They were dangerous. Especially our human. She never paid attention to our wishes and commands. But she was necessary. She served us good meals, and cleaned our water. Life was good, until that one day.
It turned out Clarissa was right. I was loaded into a box with many other wailing bettas, after being put in a bag. Clarissa watched me in horror. I could hear her calling to me. The box was put into something, and then the something moved. It was all too much. So I slept.
When I came to, lights shone everywhere. It was blinding. I looked around. I was in a cup! My cup was stacked with many others. Overtime, I learned how life here worked. If a human spotted you, chances are you had a new home. Others who were there long enough gave up the fight for life. The shelf was always filled with the smell of decay and despair.
I remember thinking about all this, and how I was now the fish at the bottom of the stack, the fish fighting for her life. It wasn’t fair. My fins were torn to shreds, and I had the floating sickness. On top of that, our shelf was in front of a cold, drafty door. It was hardly life for a princess. Not at all.
One day, a woman walked in. She was different, I could tell. She seemed kind, unlike many of the people in there. She glanced over to the shelf and I felt her sympathy, covering me like the wind. Except it wasn’t cold and heartless. It was warm and gentle. Suddenly, the unexpected happened. She looked at me! I stared into the deep twin pools of brown humans called eyes. We stared at each other like this for a few minutes.
Then she carefully took my cup and smiled. “You’re coming home with me, girl. You’ll have a home at last.” I wiggled at her, regaining my strength. We picked out a big old tank with lots of decorations. My favorite was the castle. After that, she picked out a heater, a filter, and a thermometer.
We checked out, and the woman put me on a rolling thing. I freaked out and worried that she would leave me. But the check out person shined a weird, red light on my cup and then the woman picked me back up. We walked out of the store together and went into a moving thing again. I later learned that it was called a car.
After a while, my new human picked up my cup and showed me a little house. “We’re home.” she said comfortingly. Once we were inside, she set up my new tank and soon I was in it, swimming happily.
Today, my fins have healed and my floating sickness has been cured. Must I mention that my glorious color has returned? The woman, who I now call my mother, has called me Taliah. I think it is a suitable name for me. My mother spends lots of time with me, and tells me everything. She is my forever human, and I am her forever betta. And that is how it will stay for a long time.
 
*Shark*​ I was scared. I knew my time was almost up. I couldn’t stay in the prison much longer. It was always dark and cold and dirty and unforgiving. I mean, how can a blind betta survive in a weird place like this? A place with lots of noise and mean voices sneering. And being blind makes it that much harder. 
But the hardest is when you were made blind when you were put in another betta’s cup and made to fight. Luckily I was somehow put in my own cup, but I had many wounds, and I was completely blind. I couldn’t even close to tell what was going on. It was a horrible fate for me, just eight weeks old. I needed to get away from this place. The older, tougher bettas called me names and tormented me. I lived in constant fear.
I could never tell who was who, or what was what. But my senses grew keen and I was eventually able to swim around my prison without making a fool of myself and crashing into the walls of my prison. Since I didn’t have my sight, I was able to listen to the humans without being distracted. I soon learned many human words. I knew that the humans constantly talked about a certain thing: money and prices. I did not know what the words meant, but I figured that it was something they used to trade. It made no sense.
Soon, I lost interest in the humans. Their babble was pointless and boring. I turned to trying to remember what it was like before. Before the pain and the terror. Back when life was worth living.
I remembered my father. He was a steel gray delta tail. He was named Iron. Iron was kind to us, and cared for us greatly. But then he was taken away. Soon we too were taken. Some were put in jars on shelves; others were put in bags and loaded into a box. The scary box. The box that brought us to the store. After we arrived at the store, scary people put us in cups. And that is all I could remember.
Day after day, I remembered less. I believe it had something to do with my blindness, but I don’t know. That’s when the dreams started. I dreamed of strange humans chasing me, and my father and siblings teamed up on me. There were ghosts, ghosts of those I once knew. The one who had fought me in the store. My mother. Julie, my favorite sister. So many.
Days passed. Then weeks. Finally, I was going to give up. Life wasn’t worth it anymore. Then they came. A man and a woman, by the sounds of their voices. The man walked over to me. “Look, Cassie. He needs a home. I know we can heal him up.” He must have looked at me or something, because when I didn’t react, he said, “The poor guy’s blind! And he has some pretty serious scars.”
Before I knew it, I was home with the man and the woman. I had a big tank and a snail named Gary for a tank mate. The man and the woman took care of me and healed me right up.
Today, even though I can’t see, I can sense you when you’re coming and give you a little flare. The couple is kind, and I love them even though I will probably never see them. But that will never make me love them any less. And I have heard the woman talking about how there maybe being a way for me to see again. It would be amazing to see, but I’m okay for now. I just am happy with my new life.


----------



## rubinthebetta (Oct 9, 2012)

BTW, these are all made up fishes & stories. Here's the next part.

*Flamefin*​ Woof! I heard the dog barking and sighed. At least the humans took better care of him than me. I despised my humans with all my strength left. It had seemed promising when they brought me home and took good care of me, but I was soon just a speck of dust that they couldn’t care less about.
I couldn’t remember when I had last been fed, or my water changed. It was hard to see anything. I was so upset that I began nibbling my tail. At least that was better than sitting around and hating humans. Then again, there was a point in doing that. All the humans in the house ignored me and let the dog sniff my pitiful excuse for a tank and nearly knock it over.
I remembered the good old days. Not when my humans tried to take care of me, but when I was still a baby, living the good life in a big, clean, warm, tank with my father and siblings. Then the human had taken Father out and soon I was taken out as well. My humans adopted me and another betta, but he was a jumper, and ended up dying. I never forgave my humans for letting that happen.
Now, I sunk to the bottom supposed tank. This place was garbage. Junk. Prison. It was many other things, but it would never in a million years be home. Same with the humans. They would never mean anything to me. It was a simple fact. And to them, I was useless. Trash. Unneeded. They went their merry way, I went mine. They didn’t care. They didn’t even think about me, and how they had left me to suffer.
Time passed. I didn’t know how much. It wasn’t worth keeping track of. I thought of the word ‘worth’. What did it mean? Why did it matter? Why did life matter? I didn’t know, and I didn’t care that much. One day, my youngest human had brought a new person with her. A gentle person. I suddenly felt a surge of emotion towards the person. I wanted her to go back where she came from. A girl like her would never belong.
She must have seen my prison because she asked, “What’s in there?”
“That?” My human laughed in scorn. “That’s just old Flamefin. He’s probably dead by now. Don’t bother with that old sack of nothing.”
“Why are you talking about him like that?”
“Because he doesn’t care, and he doesn’t matter. I’ve got Fluffball now.”
“That’s rude.”
“I don’t care if you think it’s rude. I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have invited you over.”
“Invited? Yeah right. Your mom made you do it.”
“Oh no you didn’t.”
“Oh yeah I did.”
The two continued on in this manner for quite a while. I was beginning to admire the newcomer. She was kind, but she meant business. After a while, the girl picked up my cube and we went to her house. She gave me a big tank and perfect water. And guess what? She fed me!
Now I am a handsome young crowntail, as my new human says, and my human and I have a bond that will never break.


----------



## Skyewillow (Dec 28, 2012)

I really like these, but you know what would be epic and a half?

A short story detailing life from the breeder's through shipping, to the cold/dirty cup on the petstore shelf, so sitting and waiting...

and on the last page, a blurb of proper care instructions, and "You choose how this story ends for another fish like me"


----------



## rubinthebetta (Oct 9, 2012)

Thanks! I'm not done yet, so I can work it into another short story of a betta in my book.


----------



## royal (Jan 23, 2013)

Oh mygosh! I love it! PM me a copy once you are done please!


----------



## rubinthebetta (Oct 9, 2012)

Thank you and I will be sure to!


----------



## royal (Jan 23, 2013)

You're welcome and Yay!!!


----------



## rubinthebetta (Oct 9, 2012)

Here's another part:

*Snowflake*
I paced my cup. This place horrified me. Day after day, bettas passed away in their prisons, and all the others were jut barely alive. Just by a bit. I wasn't doing too good, either. I was all itchy on my fins and body, so I bit off my fins. When they grew back, if they were still itchy, I bit them off again. It was the only way to stop the itching. And now my fins were infected since I bit them. I guiltily looked at the bottom of my cup, seeing bits of white fin disintegrating there. I couldn't help it. It was the only way to survive. I had seen some with the itchiness that didn't bite their fins off and died. Well, there are probably some who bit and still died, but I'm the only biter on the shelf. I didn't know any better. I had no relatives that I could remember, and all the bettas on the shelf were too sick to give advice. So nobody knew what was supposed to be done, which is why the shelf is full of confused and disorganized bettas. It was simply my life as long as I could remember. I was rather young when I was brought to the store. Month after month, I saw new bettas come, old bettas carted away, and many died. But since I was in the very back and nobody noticed me, I remained there. Quiet and tired and sick. But still, I was there. I tried to warn the new ones of what was to come, but I became to weak to do anything but lay there. One day, a young boy came up to the shelf. I thought he would choose a flashier betta, but he moved the others aside and promptly picked my cup up. He called to a man and they discussed something. But before the day was over, I was in a wonderful tank and had my new humans. Today my fins have grown back and the itchiness has gone, but I sometimes bite my tail if I'm nervous.


----------



## royal (Jan 23, 2013)

Awesome, as we're the other two!


----------



## rubinthebetta (Oct 9, 2012)

Thanks! The other two were actually three, I just put two parts in one post.


----------



## royal (Jan 23, 2013)

Oh yeah. Whoops!


----------



## rubinthebetta (Oct 9, 2012)

It's fine.


----------

