Short Stories : A Small Collection

by Isabel Storey

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  Once upon a time, on a beach not far away, a man went fishing. He had a simple rod and a carefully baited hook. His family needed food and he knew that, out in the water, was a school of fish.

  Most of the fish were of one family led by Father Fish and Mother Fish. Father Fish saw the bait in the water. It was his job to protect the school from strange things. He took the bait and began thrashing around in pain.

  Mother Fish looked on and became very unhappy. She wanted to help Father Fish. She wanted to keep the younger fish from seeing his pain. Father Fish was pulled out of the water and became a meal for a needy family.

  Seasons go and another came. Mother Fish found another Father Fish who helped her raise another batch of fishlings. These babies grew up in the school with their half-fishlings.

  Onto the beach came a young boy. He had a new rod but no-one to teach him how to bait a hook. He hoped to catch a fish. He hoped there was something he could do well for he was not very good at sport. He flung the line in the water. The metal shone silver flashes amid the bait. The new Father Fish saw the twinkling metal. It was his job now to protect the school from the unknown. Mother Fish was close by him. Most of the fishlings were almost old enough to take care of the younger ones. She saw the new Father Fish close his mouth around the bait and the shining hook. She saw him thrash about in the water. She watched him disappear as the boy reeled in the line. The boy was jubilant. At last there was something he could do well. Perhaps now he could catch a ball as easily as he had caught a fish. Even his school-work could now be better. He had shown himself how clever he could be. Filled with confidence and a fish in his hand he went home a changed person.

  Seasons go and another came. Onto the beach came a man with a fishing rod. He cast the line into the sea then sat back hoping that nothing would happen. He just wanted to look as if he were fishing. Every day he helped people in pain. He needed to relax and hoped no fish would be so stupid as to take an unbaited hook.

  But he had reckoned without Mother Fish. Two great loves of her life had been taken from her; taken out of the sea into the Great Unknown. Although she was ready to lay another batch of eggs she had not found anyone she fancied as a Father Fish. Her elder children were now old enough to fend for the younger.

  She knew the shining metal was the key to another world; a world in which she would meet the first Father Fish and second Father Fish. With a sigh and a deep gulp of yearning she bit upon the hook.

  The man saw the line running from the reel. He said a very rude word. What did he want with a fish? Perhaps if he just left it alone it would free itself. He let the fish take all the line it wanted and hoped it would snag itself on a rock. As long as the man did not have to look at it for he knew it would be in pain. Every now and again he wound the line it just far enough to feel whether or not the fish was still on the line. It was. The day wore on and Mother Fish wondered why. First Father and Second Father Fishes had been taken into the Great Unknown quickly. She stayed caught between the sea and whatever it was which lay Beyond. The day turned into an agony for both the man and for Mother Fish.

  The man took a knife and cut the line for his need for a quiet life was greater than his need for a length of fishing line. After all, who needs a silly, suicidal fish?

  Mother Fish swam round and round, hook in her mouth and trailing a length of nylon line. The line tangled around her tail. The hook made eating difficult. The fishlings watched her die slowly before their very eyes and they learned a lesson.

  Few men bother come to the beach now. It is known as a poor spot for fishing. No-one seems to know why. In the water the fishlings grow and increase in number. Each generation tells the next the story of the Mother Fish who bit upon the silver spangling key and of her dreams of joining the Father Fishes.

  One day the fishermen will return.

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