Short and Twisted

I am delighted to be included in Short and Twisted 2007, an anthology of short stories and poetry with a twist.

Kathryn Duncan who edited and published the inaugural anthology under her Celapene Press imprint aims to publish predominantly Australian writers.

Her call for contributions was so successful and the anthology sold so well that she is publishing another in May 2008.

Here is my contribution:

Ariel

Curators at the Atlantis Aquarium fear for Ariel the albino lobster. Ariel, a popular attraction amongst visitors, disappeared from her tank several days ago. No clues to her whereabouts have yet been uncovered.

Mervyn sat despondently at his desk nibbling his nails, disfiguring several paperclips and reading the article over and over. Several of his colleagues offered a cursory smile and nod but he merely scowled at them.

Mervyn Hutch was keeper of Amphibians, Crustaceans and Cephalopods at the Atlantis Aquarium. His charges were the small fry, so to speak, for whom he had prepared meals, cleaned tanks and performed menial tasks for five years. He yearned to be keeper of the dangerous and fearsome creatures – the sharks and stingrays – the reason everyone came to the aquarium. Sometimes, bored with it all, he would poke the blue ring octopus for excitement.

Mervyn sighed and shuffled papers as Lorraine, the Director’s Assistant, waddled over to his desk. The way she moved and dressed reminded him of one of the brilliantly coloured sea slugs in the aquarium tanks. Mervyn felt a surge of nastiness rise in his throat but he swallowed it when she told him about the police.
‘You mean he wants me in his office now?’
‘That’s what he said.’
‘And who did you say he had with him?’ His voice rose a couple of octaves and he tried to control his jittering legs under the table.
‘The police.’ There was an edge in her voice that made Mervyn think she knew more than she was letting on. He smiled, his face tight. She didn’t smile back.

Mervyn was responsible for Ariel, a curious attraction at the aquarium. She was a rare lobster and her albinism made her easy prey, so she was kept in a separate tank. Mervyn knew how Ariel felt about being different. Or how he imagined Ariel to feel, for even his tenderness toward her didn’t stretch to crediting Ariel with the whole gamut of human emotions. In the moments when Mervyn needed reassurance he would take Ariel carefully out of the tank, and holding the lobster as close as he could, without being nipped, would stare into the unblinking black eyes and whisper encouragements, while Ariel’s antennae and claws flailed slowly in the air.

Mr Carruthers’ office was at the end of a carpeted hallway. Mervyn was introduced to two police officers: one male, one female. His boss, usually a dour-faced man, wore a bright and triumphant expression. Mervyn sat near the door with his hands folded in his lap. He looked expectantly at the male officer, but it was the policewoman who appeared to be in charge.
‘Thank you for agreeing to answer our questions, Mr Hutch.’ Her voice seemed too big for the tiny room. ‘We would have preferred to interview you at the station but Mr Carruthers thought you might feel more comfortable here.’
Mervyn nodded attentively.

Mervyn’s grand scheme for self-advancement occurred to him one evening as he lay on his bed staring at the ceiling fan and listening to his mother hum in the kitchen. Mervyn had concluded his lack of promotion was because nobody knew what he did or how good he was at his job. He tried smiling and being pleasant but that seemed to make them suspicious. To get ahead, Mervyn concluded he’d have to draw attention to himself. He wrote down his ideas and drew arrows in different colours in a complex flow diagram with notes and brief explanations in the margin until he had The Plan.

‘We believe Ariel’s disappearance may be part of a larger plan against the aquarium and it’s excellent reputation,’ the policewoman said.
Mervyn looked around the room. There was a dusty yellowing plant in one corner and a slime-tinted fish bowl in the other. Papers spilled from the bookcase and sat piled on the floor.
‘There’s a high probability a person or persons within this organisation may be responsible.’ The policewoman allowed the words to hang in the air.
Mervyn opened his mouth and raised his eyebrows in a look he hoped conveyed his surprise.

Mervyn had read somewhere that albino lobsters were so valuable, armoured vans were used to transport them from the docks. He concluded that an albino lobster would be highly sought after, making Ariel a prime target for kidnap. His strategy was this: he would smuggle Ariel home and keep her in an old tank he could rig up to keep her safe - the aquarium would start receiving threats to her life. The police would be sent on a false trail searching shipping containers and intercepting delivery vans. Meanwhile, he would become a vigilante and take matters into his own hands to rescue his beloved Ariel. He would liberate her and, as a result of his bravery, he would be showered with accolades and applause and receive his new position: Head Curator of Ocean Creatures.
A thrill of anticipation burst in the pit of his stomach as he contemplated his ingenuity.

‘Now, Mr Hutch, if you could just tell me in your own words what your movements were on the day of the lobster’s …’ the policewoman glanced down at her notebook, ‘on the day of Ariel’s disappearance?’
‘I was here like any other day. Did the usual feeding and cleaning … routine stuff really.’
‘And Ariel?’
‘Ariel was in her tank all day. She was there when I left.’
‘Did you see anyone acting suspiciously?’
Mervyn seized on an idea. ‘There was Hungi, the cleaner. He was being strange, come to think of it.’
‘Can you describe what he was doing?’
‘He was dawdling. Working awfully slowly. He kept looking around him. His bucket was larger than usual …’ Mervyn paused.
The policewoman’s brow creased slightly. ‘Are you sure about that, Mr Hutch?’
Mervyn knew that he’d been waffling and thought that perhaps he had overdone it. ‘You know, now that I think of it, well, I couldn’t be absolutely certain …’ Mervyn trailed off, his palms sweating.
‘Mr Curruthers reported you received a series of envelopes. Can you tell me about them?’
‘They were on my desk. I usually leave it clean, so I couldn’t miss them. They were unmarked. There was a scrap of paper in each one and I could tell they were part of something else. It wasn’t clear what it was from the first one, but I soon worked out it was to do with Ariel.’
He remembered the fun he had with the ransom note. Taking a digital photo of Ariel on his mother’s white oval platter and typing Give in to our demands or the lobster gets it underneath and then cutting it up so to make it a jigsaw puzzle. He delivered one piece to himself each day.
‘You sound angry, Mr Hutch,’ said the policewoman in a tone Mervyn suspected she used for speaking with bereaved parents and young children.
He stared at the ceramic No Fishing sign in the fish tank. He felt a familiar wave of disappointment sweep over him. He hadn’t expected it to turn out this way. Finally he said, ‘An innocent lobster has gone missing and you’re not doing anything about it!’
The policewoman narrowed her eyes and Mr Carruthers tightened his grip on the desk.
‘Mr Hutch, are you aware the aquarium has security cameras?’ She pressed a button and pointed to a small monitor.
A small balding man with large ears appeared on the screen. He wore gloves and held what looked like a pair of pliers.
Mervyn breathed out audibly, realising as he did so that he’d been holding his breath. His eyes remained fixed on the monitor. The man went over to a tank window and vanished behind it. The water in the window swished around violently. The time on the bottom of the screen showed that several minutes had elapsed when the man came back into the camera’s vision. He was carrying a box. The footage ended.
Mervyn shifted in his seat.
‘Mr Hutch, is there anything else you would like to tell us?’
Mervyn stayed still. Maybe if he remained motionless they’d forget he was there. Perhaps if he didn’t say anything they’d realise it was no use.
‘Mr Hutch, this is a very serious matter. I need you to answer the question.’
‘Which was? Sorry, I didn’t catch it.’ He was stalling, the way he did when his mother tested him on his times tables.
‘Is there anything else you would like to tell us - anything different?’
His time was up. He knew that but he just kept staring ahead at a stain on the carpet.

His mother smiled, ‘You said you had a surprise for me and, well, you know what I’m like around surprises. I found it and thought what a treat! So expensive too! And I knew you wouldn’t mind me preparing something special for my wonderful and clever boy.’ She kissed him on the cheek. He leaned forward to lift up the silver-serving dome.

He felt three pairs of eyes on him. No one stepped forward. No one said anything. Only the bubble of the tank filter punctuated the silence.