To the lady Gaga of goldfish {Sky}

A majority of people in the world were not insane. A few were, yes, but it was only a handful of the mary-sues and gary-stus that dwelled in the existance of the world.

It was a large step to believe you're a goldfish, but somehow Oriana did it. A six year old, yes. A handless six year old with no particular reason to be meandering on the port, alone, with no parental supervision. Well, outside the fact that she most likely would go for a swim.

And yes, she lived in district four, and children swam there. When they were ten or older, they could go to the ocean alone and decide to spend the day there, a bottle of strawberry soda by their side and suntan oil slicked onto their skin like they were seals.

Not six year olds who didn't have hands. Or a girl who believed she was a goldfish. No, they would never let that crazy out of the asylum. Ever, really. But, since most people distinguished it as a childhood obsession, Oriana was left alone and her parents, oblivious to the six year olds escape from the backyard, were inside cooking or something, Oriana had decided to walk to the sea.

What a wonderful thing for her to do, standing out in the slightly cold, slightly damp and very salty air, her tendrils of hair frizzing from the humidity. Staring at the cold, gray ocean, she thought of all the fish that must be in there.

Big fish, small fish, fish with scales. The premisies of a six year old mind, in most cases, but it didn't stray from the conversation that muttered along her mind, trudging along like a snail.

Trudge, trudge, trudge. Was that all that snails did? Mentally, she decided to ask her Mother later, but as she caught the eye of the ocean, she thought she might take a swim.

She walked down the steps of the wooden boardwalk and went to the beach, with the grains ruining her new shoes. Not like she cared. She just wanted to join her goldfish bretheren in the sea.

Too bad goldfish don't live in the ocean.