"Fishbowl"
The thousand faces of Elias Thorne
So I don't typically add any disclaimers to my stories, but I wanted to bring attention to the originator of this prompt, Ian Patterson. In an effort to fight back against AI-generated work, he has tasked writers with creating original stories based on this strange figure, “Elias Thorne,” who has been popping up all over the place in AI content. It’s definitely a worthwhile effort and I enjoyed writing this! Here's my take on the prompt, and here are the rules (the one I’ll highlight is that all of the characters have to be named Elias Thorne lol):
Elias Thorne had taken to eating his goldfish again. His slimy, fishy hands left settlements on the banister as he zipped down the stairs, eager to catch the mailman, Elias Thorne, before he drove off. The small jaunt had rendered Young Elias a bit breathless, and he spoke with a cotton-mouth heaviness, like the permanent speech of a husky boy. “I’m waiting for a package,” he said. “A specimen.” He licked his fingers, washing down fish juice, followed by a fiendish smile. The mailman shook his head. "Nothin’ today, son."
Elias frowned, kicked the grass and hurled something indistinguishable at the mailman, who at that point, had already hopped into his truck. Though, seemingly oblivious to the potential slight, he smiled and waved to the boy before journeying on.
“What did you just say,” a young girl, Elias Thorne said, marching over with the expectant expression of someone who needs to speak to the manager. “If I’m not mistaken, I believe you just cursed that man.” Elias studied the girl. Just how could she know that?
“I know because it’s one of the worst things you can say to a person," she replied. “You’re a real wanker.”
Elias shrugged.
“Well, anyway, I just thought I’d let you know, and really I need to tell you to watch your mouth. You should remember the Golden Rule.”
All of this was well and good, Elias thought, but he was still hungry and the shipment of new fish hadn’t arrived so now on top of that he was irritable. This girl was annoying and he was keen to push her down. He restrained himself, just barely, and thought he would rather devote his precious energy into finding something productive to do, like smoking a cigarette.
Customarily, Elias would mosey over to his father’s study, rifle through a desk drawer to find a stash of the nicotine sticks, but he was discovered last time under very similar circumstances, having fishy hands and all. He thought of a better idea. He was going to make his own.
Taking out his phone, he spoke into the receiver: “Elias, how do I make a cigarette?” Elias Thorne spat out some instructions. “Eh, too much trouble.” Young Elias huffed. This boredom just wouldn’t do. The restless agitation was already settling in, and its cousin emotion, rage, was about to make an appearance. Bad things happened when Elias’ cousin came to town. He really couldn’t afford a meltdown right now. Elias thought of the girl. He’d find her. At least he’d have someone to play with, even if she was a sanctimonious, bossy little thing.
* * *
It didn’t take long for Elias to stumble upon Elias. She was at a nearby park, swinging on a swingset, smoking a cigarette. She hopped off, landing perfectly, and flicked an ash in his direction.
“Smoking kills, you know,” she said, tossing the cigarette down and mashing it with her bare foot.
There were few times in Elias Thorne’s life where he felt at ease in someone else’s presence. Most people never ticked off any of the boxes he required; chiefly, deviance. Elias didn't fancy himself abominable or anything, but God, what was with life and its tedium? It was all so boring. Everyone was the same; predictable, safe. Elias could sense a ruthless energy in this girl and it tickled him silly. In fact, it made him laugh out loud. He continued to do so for about twenty seconds before Barefoot Elias put a hand over his mouth. She picked up the cigarette she had just mashed. “Eat it,” she said.
Without any hesitation, Elias plopped the cigarette butt in his mouth and swallowed it whole.
“Good,” the girl said. “Now, follow me.”
As they arrived back at her home, entering through the basement door, Elias was stunned to discover framed photos of goldfish covering every inch of the walls. Each one was slightly different, either by size or angle. One in particular caught his eye instantly. As he moved closer, he discovered it wasn’t a photo of a goldfish at all. It was a mosaic, composed of snippets of probably hundreds of photos of him, fashioned into the shape of a fish. He took a half-step forward, and in that instant, the floor gave way, plummeting him deep into a pool of water, encased by glass.
Elias Thorne — who had been observing him from a safe distance — giggled before pushing a button that made the top of the container, also made of glass, close. “Be right back, I won’t be long. This is fun, right? You’re having fun?” She giggled again.
Elias was an expert swimmer, and could hold his breath for an unusually long period of time, but he was fading by the time Elias returned.
She opened the lid.
“Elias,” she said. “You’re my best friend. You’re going to stay with me for a little while.”
She seemed to have conjured super-human strength; that, or Elias was just too weak. She pulled him out and outfitted him in scuba gear before pushing him back into the water.
Pleased, she nodded. “Great. So cute. My little goldfish.”
She pressed another button and the glass container lit up with lights, highlighting colorful flora and pebbles. Like a fishbowl.
“Goodnight,” she said sweetly. “Remember to pray.”
She walked to the door and clicked off the lights.
“And remember the Golden Rule.”