by John Langan
People—rows and rows of people floated there, most of them submerged to their shoulders, a few to their chins, fewer still to their eyes. I couldn’t guess their number, because they extended into the deeper dark. Their skin was damp, white, their hair lank, their eyes gleaming gold. It didn’t take me long to pick out Marie in the midst of them, not as close as I would have supposed. Her face was blank, as were those of the children to either side of her. A girl and a boy, their features in that in-between stage when childhood is beginning to make way for adolescence. Their mouths were open; I glimpsed rows of serrated teeth. Their eyes were vacant of any intelligence. They had, I fancied, my mother’s nose.
THE END
Acknowledgments
When I started writing the story that would become this book, my wife was pregnant with our son. He’s now twelve-going-on-thirteen. Needless to say, that’s a long time from start to finish. A lot has happened during that time, a lot has changed, but the love and support of my wife, Fiona, has remained a constant. More than that: as the years slid by, she was the one who said, every now and again, “You have to get back to The Fisherman.” This book wouldn’t be here without her. Thanks, love, for everything.
That twelve-going-on-thirteen-year-old has blossomed into quite the fisherman, himself, these last few years, pretty much on his own. (I basically sit nearby with a book and try to make comments that don’t sound too ignorant.) David Langan’s technical advice helped a great deal in making the fishing-related portions of this narrative more accurate, while his love and all-around awesomeness made the rest of my life better.
My older son, Nick, and my daughter-in-law, Mary, and their trio of astounding kids, my brilliant grandchildren, Inara, Asher, and Penelope the Bean, have brought and continue to bring more joy into my life than I probably deserve.
It’s becoming a critical commonplace to say that we’re currently experiencing a resurgence in the field of dark/horror/weird/whatever fiction. I happen to think this is true, but what matters more to me is the friendship so many of my fellow writers have offered me. Laird Barron and Paul Tremblay have been the other brothers I never knew I had, even as their work has made me grit my teeth and tell myself to do better. Sarah Langan, Brett Cox, and Michael Cisco are pretty good, too.
These last few years, I’ve continued to benefit from the kindness of writers whose work inspired my own. Both Peter Straub and Jeffrey Ford have been unfailingly generous in their support and example. While I am at it, let me raise a glass to the memory of the late, great Lucius Shepard, whose encouragement, praise, and fiction I continue to treasure.
My indefatigable agent, Ginger Clark, has been a champion of this book since I sent her its first three chapters a long, long time ago. Every now and again, Ginger would send an e-mail encouraging me to finish the novel, and when at last I did, there was nobody happier. I’m grateful for her continuing faith in me and my work.
As was the case with my previous novel, House of Windows, The Fisherman took a while to find a home. The genre publishers said it was too literary, the literary publishers, too genre. Thanks to Ross Lockhart and Word Horde for responding so immediately and enthusiastically to the book.
While this is a work of fiction, its composition was aided by details found in Bob Steuding’s The Last of the Hand Made Dams: The Story of the Ashokan Reservoir (1989) and the 2002 documentary, Deep Water: The True Story of the Ashokan Reservoir, by Tobe Carey, Bobbie Dupree, and Artie Traum. Alf Evers’ The Catskills: From Wilderness to Woodstock (1972) is a treasure-trove of information about the Catskill region.
And a final, heartfelt thank you to you, the reader, for the gifts of your time and attention. You make this writing life I have possible, and I’m grateful for it.
Titles Available from Word Horde
Tales of Jack the Ripper
an anthology edited by Ross E. Lockhart
We Leave Together
a Dogsland novel by J. M. McDermott
The Children of Old Leech: A Tribute to the
Carnivorous Cosmos of Laird Barron
an anthology edited by Ross E. Lockhart and Justin Steele
Vermilion
a novel by Molly Tanzer
Giallo Fantastique
an anthology edited by Ross E. Lockhart
Mr. Suicide
a novel by Nicole Cushing
Cthulhu Fhtagn!
an anthology edited by Ross E. Lockhart
Painted Monsters
a collection by Orrin Grey
Furnace
a collection by Livia Llewellyn
The Lure of Devouring Light
a collection by Michael Griffin
A Brutal Chill in August (August 2016)
a novel by Alan M. Clark
Ask for Word Horde books by name at your favorite bookseller.
Or order online at www.WordHorde.com
About the Author
John Langan is the author of a previous novel, House of Windows (Night Shade, 2009), and three collections of stories: Sefira and Other Betrayals (Hippocampus, 2016), The Wide, Carnivorous Sky and Other Monstrous Geographies (Hippocampus, 2013), and Mr. Gaunt and Other Uneasy Encounters (Prime, 2008). With Paul Tremblay, he co-edited Creatures: Thirty Years of Monsters (Prime, 2011). One of the co-founders of the Shirley Jackson Awards, he served as a juror for their first three years. He lives in New York’s Hudson Valley with his wife, younger son, and a houseful of animals.
