Wednesday, June 2, 2021

Story Write Compilations Volume I Stories 60

 The Fisherman's wife and the Flounder

 

Author's Note:

Write about the sea. I decided to go fishing instead.

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Do we wish upon the stars but in our hearts, we hoped we can just touch the clouds? Sometimes we do that knowing that the unreachable is only a desire, but we should be happy with us what we can get.

 

So our story began.

 

For years, the old couple lived by the sea and lived off it. They have in their possession the boat and the house, which has a fireplace that keeps them warm. It does provide shelter to them on stormy days and since they built this house; it withstood several bad storms.

 

But the days of fishing are getting different, and fewer go out to fish nowadays. This is because the current fisherman has the technical assistance of technology that can detect the fishes and the boats that can swallow up by the loads these school of fishes. So the old way of casting a net and pulling in the net by man was over. And so did the number of fishermen.

 

But not this old man; he does it the old way. He sails out and he cast his net, and he waits. And his boat will float to the movements of the tide and he would have his umbrella when it's too hot. And he will come back by dusk with his catch. You can tell by the way he walks to the house. He is either smoking his pipe or not. If he does, it's a good catch; if not, he does not smoke as yet.

 

For days, the fisherman’s wife watches outside her window for her husband. And how she reacts depends on the walk too. If he is smoking, she will prepare for him his glass of brandy. If he is not, she will lay out two glasses to share with him his story of the old days.

 

Today was no exception, he was walking with his pipe in his mouth. But he is not smoking it. So she was confused.

 

‘Henry, you did not smoke today. What happened?’ The distraught wife asked as her fisherman husband walks in the door.

 

‘Them tobacco was wet from the splashing of the fish. I had no refills with me. Here is your fish now.’ so he handed over the only one fish he caught today.

 

‘One fish is better than no fish I guess’, she was hoping for more to store in the fridge. So I guess, it's those chicken’s last days again. I wondered who will volunteer; nay, they never did. I had to catch them and slit their throat to ease their pain. Bloody noise brats; not like the fish. They won't come quiet and die more silently. So she took the only fish he caught and took it to the kitchen. She laid it in the sink and thought of the 101 ways to cook it. And the fish spoke to her.

 

‘Psst, ma’am. Can you spare me fins for today? I will grant you wishes of whatever you want.’

 

She took a look at the fish and said; ‘did you just speak to me?’

 

‘Yup, that’s me. I am Fortis, the Flounder. I am more than a fish; I am magical fish. You see I am the last of the Flounder. Your fishing industry has reduced my fellow fishes to less than 10% in the ocean. So statically speaking given that we are reduced to almost 10%, I am probably the only one with the magical power. Though we are good at camouflaging, your damned technology still swept us off the ocean floor. So I do you a favor if you do me mine.’

 

‘Magical fish? That will be the day, I become young and beautiful again.’ And so she did; she was herself when she married the fisherman. She could not believe herself, and she ran out to see the fisherman.

 

‘Look, Henry. It's me. I am young again. Do you remember me?’

 

Now Henry was about to smoke his pipe after having sipped his brandy. He gave a bad cough and spoiled his tobacco again. But he looked up at the lady who is his wife now aged backward by twenty-five years. He remembered her then as the lady in the sundress who brightens up even the downcast days. ‘Drowning Neptune, what did you do? You looked like the day we got married.’

 

And so she told him of the fish that gave her wish and he is the last of his kind. And he was happy and joyous. Then he stopped to sit down on his chair and had that looked she knew very well.

 

‘I know, Henry. We can turn the clock back, but we can’t turn our life back. And you won’t want to be young and going fishing again like the old days. You like these days now, You get your fishing done, fish or no fish, but you get the weekend with the grandkids. They always bring their smile to us when they are here. And I am not waiting for another twenty-five years to see that again. So be it.’

 

So the fisherman’s wife walked back to the kitchen and told the fish;’ deal’s off. You are on my recipe list tonight when the grandkids come home from their playing. So au revoir, and say hello to the rest.’ And so was her looks.

 

Outside the house, there were two hen’s looking at each other; one said to the other ‘told you the ventriloquist taught me well. We live another day. So pay me back my peck of rice now. ’

 

'Yeah, but I broke his spectacles. So who's paying me? The ducks?'

 

( we wished many things in life that we forget to see the wishes that came true in front of us now. )

 

 

 


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