Leftovers was first published by Paradise Press – inside their 'Flash Dances: 100 Little Queer Stories' anthology in November 2024.
Leftovers
The pond’s rising temperature could mean only one thing – the school had survived another night. As the morning wore on, slithers of sunlight would broaden out into big beams which were certain to draw in the crowds. That’s when the koi would receive their reward for surviving.
Old Tsubasa was the one most park-goers came to see. Now in his fiftieth year, the rest of the school relied on the ancient koi for their security. When he was a sprat, he remembered how herons would swoop down like ninja in the dead of night – scooping up his friends and relatives alike. He was the last of his generation now, but large enough to defend the next.
Sure enough, shortly after the sun had risen high into the sky, the park started teeming with people. As they thronged around the pond – desperate to feed the fish – the koi swam into position, each mouth gasping gormlessly at the water’s surface.
Old Tsubasa’s impassive eye watched as a little girl emptied out a bag of feed she had brought, before letting go of the bag itself – shattering the pond’s glassy surface as it fell with an audible plop. He knew that bag would eventually break down into a thousand ephemeral wisps – each destined for the digestive tract of one of his unfortunate fellow fish. He had seen it all before, and the slow, inevitable decline of his friends that came with it. During the feeding frenzy, anything floating was fair game, and in the scrum to scoop up the best bits – the little pieces of plastic would be swallowed along with them.
Old Tsubasa could thrash against the herons who came to feast at night, but – try as he might – he could never defend his friends from this most insidious of threats...
Old Tsubasa was the one most park-goers came to see. Now in his fiftieth year, the rest of the school relied on the ancient koi for their security. When he was a sprat, he remembered how herons would swoop down like ninja in the dead of night – scooping up his friends and relatives alike. He was the last of his generation now, but large enough to defend the next.
Sure enough, shortly after the sun had risen high into the sky, the park started teeming with people. As they thronged around the pond – desperate to feed the fish – the koi swam into position, each mouth gasping gormlessly at the water’s surface.
Old Tsubasa’s impassive eye watched as a little girl emptied out a bag of feed she had brought, before letting go of the bag itself – shattering the pond’s glassy surface as it fell with an audible plop. He knew that bag would eventually break down into a thousand ephemeral wisps – each destined for the digestive tract of one of his unfortunate fellow fish. He had seen it all before, and the slow, inevitable decline of his friends that came with it. During the feeding frenzy, anything floating was fair game, and in the scrum to scoop up the best bits – the little pieces of plastic would be swallowed along with them.
Old Tsubasa could thrash against the herons who came to feast at night, but – try as he might – he could never defend his friends from this most insidious of threats...
