As the truck hits every bump possible, I'm one heartbeat closer to dying. And wherever I'm headed, I hope it's some place with halfway decent
food. I extremely dislike flakes. I dream of pellets, maybe some freeze-dried blood worms...
I look at my brother next to me. He's probably already dead
, I thought. Maybe he was even sleeping. I swam in circles hoping we would reach our destination soon. Then this would all
be over. I would be in a place where I had some chance of finding a home. Soon enough, I thought.
It was nearing the end of the day as they unloaded me and my family into the store. The people were not the slightest bit gentle, I thought they might be nicer than the people who put me INTO the truck. I was annoyed by how they treated us like a toy; they handled us like we are nothing
. It's just not fair, I thought. Why couldn't we live in something else but a cup for the time being? Just a bigger plastic bowl would be nicer. Just a gallon would make a big difference. 'Just a gallon...' That ran through my head for the rest of the day. I could barely sleep, not knowing where I would be tommorow...
Thanks for reading Part 1 of A Betta Story! All constructive criticism/suggestions welcomed. Part 2 Coming Soon!