Disclaimer:
Dude, I, like, dunno if I, like, own 'Finding Nemo', but, hey, I own some fishes of my making, so, dude, keep off my back about suing and stuff. Dudes, those lawyer dudes are scary!
Reflections
Prologue: Pass It On
By Debbie (Dai-chan)
A small Clownfish rested upon a tiny space of warm sand, appreciating the warm currents brushing against her pale peach-colored scales. Her eyes, colored deep orange, were slightly slanted, given from her heritage, easily recognized by most of her friends and family members, for she was the only one who had the slanted eyes. She got it from her great-grandmother, her father once told her.
The shape wasn't the only thing that she was proud of. There were two other traits, and one of them was the thrill of freedom. She was one of the rare Clownfishes who desired open space to the safety of anemones. She was a free spirit and wouldn't like to stay confined inside an anemone. That was why she liked to travel, swimming in open dangerous areas and experiencing thrill and ecstasy.
The other trait happened when she was around children.
Her dark eyes gazed upon several children, each a different species, racing each other around fire coral, laughter filling the clear waters. She faintly smiled, cherishing the sound of laughter. She loved to call them her children, even though they weren't hers. Still, she had visited the nearby islands of New Caledonia often enough that the children recognized her and accepted her as one of them. All the children she has met in her travels were always her children, regardless of their ages.
She then smiled with eagerness as her children swam over to her, gathering around and chattering excitedly. She knew exactly what they were planning to ask.
A young Lionfish, a few inches larger than her, grinned brightly, his spiny fins carefully flattened against his body to avoid stinging his friends accidentally. He was named Ridge because of his unusually rugged fins. "Are you gonna tell us a story, Miss Koraline?"
"Yeah, please!" the kids cheered, clapping their fins or pinchers in the case of a present hermit crab.
The Clownfish, Koraline, laughed with merriment. That was her other trait, and the one she cherished the most. She was a Storyteller, an unique role given from her Tjukurpa life since she was born. It was a special and honored role, her father once told her. Storytellers were chosen among cultures or families to store treasured stories in memories and pass them on to recall the history. Koraline loved her role; she always felt like she was blessed and she felt happiest whenever she was telling a story.
She then nodded, a wide grin painting on her smooth face. This time, she felt she was ready to tell a cherished story she loved since she first heard it. She so much wanted to tell it to the children, hoping that the meanings hidden there would be clear and aid them to understand. But first, of course, as Storytellers need to do, she wanted to test them to see if they did understand the reasons.
"Of course, I will tell you a story, but first, I want to ask you a question." The children were seriously paying attention; that was a good sign. "Why do I tell you stories? Why do we tell stories? What are stories for?"
Beside her, a tiny Yellow Tang's lips were contorted into a puzzling pout. "That's three questions, Miss Koraline," Jennifer simply said.
As Koraline chuckled, a White Blenny, Meg, was pondering the questions. She then shrugged. "Because we're boring?"
Ridge sneered mischievously. "No, because you're boring!"
"Hey, is not!"
"Is too!"
"Whoa, kids, that's not nice," Koraline firmly said. Ridge and Meg were considered as rivals, and Koraline had no clue why. She did know, though, that Ridge liked to tease Meg, and she tended to snap easily.
Meg pointed a white fin at the Lionfish, her lower lip sticking out. "But he called me boring."
"You're not boring, dear, and Ridge, don't tease her like that. Remember the eel story I told you about?"
Ridge's black eyes actually blanched and he flinched at the memory. His spines lowered a bit in a sign of guilt. " . . . Sorry, Meg."
Koraline smiled, hearing Meg' muttered reply of acceptance, then noticed a small blue pincher rising over the children. A timid hermit crab was trying to get her attention. She warmly smiled at him. "Do you know, Brook?"
Brook slightly crawled backward as pairs of eyes turned on him, but encouraged by Miss Koraline, he shyly said, "We tell stories because we learn from them?"
"That's right, Brook!" Brook's blue shell turned a deep red. She nodded toward the children. "That's why I tell you stories so you can learn from them."
"Learn what?" Ridge questioned.
"Like being nice to each other," Meg piped, along with a brief glare at him.
Ridge slightly bristled, glancing over to her with an equally brief glare, then turned to Koraline. "And be happy?"
Jennifer giggled, her tiny fins gesturing. "And don't go up to the Surface or a bird will snatch you out!"
The other children laughed, mimicking a bird snapping its beak. Brook worriedly crawled closer to Koraline, his gaze upward to the water surface. "Ohh, I'm scared, Miss Koraline."
"That's alright, dear." Again Koraline laughed softly and placed a reassuring fin on his shell. "We tell stories not only for learning, but for history. History lives in stories, and it can live forever only if you pass them on to your friends and children."
The children looked thoughtful as they pondered her words. She felt a shy tug on her tail and looked down to Brook. "Miss Koraline, why do you tell stories?"
Koraline secretly smiled to herself. There was only one simple answer. "Because I love stories. Stories are alive and when I tell them, it's like I'm living in them." There was no other way to describe her feelings. She could see through the characters' eyes, feel the same emotions, and she could feel like she was there, sharing the same memories the characters stored in the stories. Stories were alive, indeed, and Koraline treasured them like real beings.
Ridge grinned widely, nodding. "You know what? I feel like I live in them, too!"
Koraline felt proud as the children agreed to his words. They understood. They finally understood why Storytellers told stories, not just for fun, but for something more. They told stories because that was the only way stories can live on.
She inched closer, her faint smile changing into an eager grin. "Do you want to hear a story?" As the kids cheered and quieted down, the Storyteller continued, her words guiding young minds into the Dreamtime. "It's passed down to me, so I can pass it on to you. It's a story of adventure. It's a story of magic. It's a story of reflection and it begins with a dream . . ."
To be continued in the dream of Chapter One . . .
