A Fish Story
by Michael C. Keith
Genre: Fantasy/Sci-Fi
Swearwords: None.
Description: After saving a fish, the fish saves the man.
_____________________________________________________________________
Think where man’s glory most begins and ends,
And say my glory was I had such friends. – W. B. Yeats
The deck of the charter boat was covered with numerous large flapping and gasping Halibut, all of them just reeled in by four fishermen.
“Must have been a school of them,” said Harvey Baker, excitedly. “Never seen so many caught at the same time. Amazing!”
“Man, I think you guys caught our quota faster than anyone ever did,” observed the young deckhand.
“Guess only Miles came up empty. Fish don’t like you, buddy,” Baker cajoled his friend.
Miles Cantor was not disappointed over his failure to hook a fish. In fact, he was relieved. The idea of handling the slithery creatures grossed him out. Furthermore, he actually felt sorry for the fish as they frantically gulped the air that could not sustain them. When the fish were knocked unconscious and dumped into the giant cooler, Miles had an overwhelming urge to come to their rescue . . . to try and save them.
“Jesus, that’s barbaric! They’re living things, and they’re being massacred,” Miles protested.
“What are you talking about? They’re friggin’ fish. That’s why we’re out here. You eat them, don’t you?” responded Cary Ellis, heaving the body of his catch into the ice-filled container.
In reality, Miles was no fan of fish or, for that matter, any kind of cooked animal. As he watched his buddies measure their prey to determine who had caught the largest, he wondered why he had agreed to come on the trip. Mostly it was the idea of seeing Alaska, a place he had always found intriguing. However, going fishing had not interested him, and now he knew he had made a mistake joining his friends on the expedition.
“No, I don’t eat fish or any other living creatures,” responded Miles, exasperated.
“So why’d you come along with us, man?” asked Cary.
“Guess I didn’t realize that we’d be butchering all these beautiful sea creatures. Look at them. You can see in their eyes that they know they’re doomed. They’ve been pulled from their natural habitat to be devoured by humans . . . by you. We call ourselves a compassionate species and we do this. Pretty pitiful.”
“You’re pitiful, Miles. You knew we were going fishing. It’s a sport. Millions of people do it. It’s not a crime. Wake up and smell the Halibut, for Christ’s sake.”
Miles looked at the stack of scaly carcasses in the cooler and noticed that the largest Halibut was stirring among its motionless companions. When he looked closer, his eyes made contact with the creatures. It’s appealing for its life, he thought. It wants me to save it. It’s in terrible pain. Miles reached for the sentient sea critter and grabbed it. Though the feeling of its quivering body repulsed him, he lifted it and heaved it overboard.
“Are you crazy, Miles? That was my catch. Biggest one I ever hooked,” shouted Ellis, astounded.
“If you love them that much, Miles, maybe you should join them,” barked Baker.
“Yeah,” agreed Ellis. “Come on guys. Let’s help Miles join his real friends.”
Before Miles realized what was happening, he was being hoisted off the deck and thrown into the Cook Inlet’s freezing waters. As he tried desperately to keep from sinking, he could hear his cohorts laughing back on the boat.
“Go find your fishy little buddies, Miles. Doubt they’ll be looking for you,” shouted Baker.
“Okay, better throw him a life preserver. Let’s reel him in, like we did his chums, or is it chum?” commented Ellis.
“You mean chump,” added Baker.
Miles was not a strong swimmer, and the arctic water defeated his efforts to remain afloat. Before the lifesaver could reach him, he sank below the choppy surface.
“Where the hell is he?” bellowed Ellis.
“I can’t see him. He’s gone under, man?” replied the deck hand, leaping into the water himself.
After several minutes, he was helped back on board without having located Miles.
“Oh, my God! He’s drowned. He’s gone! What can we do?” whimpered Ellis.
“I’ve radioed the Coast Guard. You guys are in a heap of trouble, and I’m probably going to lose my captain’s license. What the hell were you thinking?” growled the charter boat’s skipper.
“We were just joking. Didn’t mean for this to happen. He’s a friend,” protested Baker.
“A hell of a joke! You killed your friend.”
As Miles was about to lose consciousness, a mammoth Halibut swam up to him and placed its mouth over his and breathed into it. In the same instant, several other fish grabbed Miles and moved him toward shore. Miles sensed that something extraordinary was taking place, but his mind was too addled for him to fully grasp what was happening. By the time he regained lucidity, he was resting against a log back on the coastline.
They saved my life, he thought, incredulously, as he rose and walked toward the pier from which the charter boat had departed that morning.
“What the heck happened to you?” asked the boat lease agent as Miles approached. “Kinda cold in there to be swimming, young fella’.”
“I fell overboard,” answered Miles, not wanting to get his friends in trouble, knowing they did not intend him harm.
“When?”
“Just now.”
“Huh? The boat’s got to be miles off shore. How’s that possible? Got an outboard on your butt? You don’t even have a wet suit on. Someone rescue you?”
“Well . . . sort of.”
Miles was about to reveal the miracle that had occurred to him, but then thought better of it. He’ll think I’m crazy if I tell him the Halibut saved me. They did save me? he wondered for a second and again was convinced they had. Yes, they did. Of course, they did.
He was taken inside and advised to remove his wet clothes before hyperthermia set in. He draped his shoulders in the blanket he was given without fully wrapping his body in it.
“Darned if you don‘t even look that cold, son,” observed the man.
I’m not . . . I’m not cold at all, thought Miles, smiling knowingly.
“There’s your boat now,” said the elderly man, pointing toward the horizon. “Looks like it’s being escorted by the Coast Guard.”
When the boats tied up, a member of the Coast Guard crew was the first to enter the dock’s office.
“We got a man overboard under suspicious circumstances, Walt. Found no body. Guy couldn’t have survived out there very long,” he reported.
Two other Coast Guardsmen then escorted Mile’s friends inside. When they caught sight of him, they froze in shocked disbelief.
“Hi guys? How was the fishing?” asked Miles, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
“How . . . What . . . But . . .? stuttered Ellis.
Miles gave the group a hard look before answering.
“Some real friends rescued me.”
Swearwords: None.
Description: After saving a fish, the fish saves the man.
_____________________________________________________________________
Think where man’s glory most begins and ends,
And say my glory was I had such friends. – W. B. Yeats
The deck of the charter boat was covered with numerous large flapping and gasping Halibut, all of them just reeled in by four fishermen.
“Must have been a school of them,” said Harvey Baker, excitedly. “Never seen so many caught at the same time. Amazing!”
“Man, I think you guys caught our quota faster than anyone ever did,” observed the young deckhand.
“Guess only Miles came up empty. Fish don’t like you, buddy,” Baker cajoled his friend.
Miles Cantor was not disappointed over his failure to hook a fish. In fact, he was relieved. The idea of handling the slithery creatures grossed him out. Furthermore, he actually felt sorry for the fish as they frantically gulped the air that could not sustain them. When the fish were knocked unconscious and dumped into the giant cooler, Miles had an overwhelming urge to come to their rescue . . . to try and save them.
“Jesus, that’s barbaric! They’re living things, and they’re being massacred,” Miles protested.
“What are you talking about? They’re friggin’ fish. That’s why we’re out here. You eat them, don’t you?” responded Cary Ellis, heaving the body of his catch into the ice-filled container.
In reality, Miles was no fan of fish or, for that matter, any kind of cooked animal. As he watched his buddies measure their prey to determine who had caught the largest, he wondered why he had agreed to come on the trip. Mostly it was the idea of seeing Alaska, a place he had always found intriguing. However, going fishing had not interested him, and now he knew he had made a mistake joining his friends on the expedition.
“No, I don’t eat fish or any other living creatures,” responded Miles, exasperated.
“So why’d you come along with us, man?” asked Cary.
“Guess I didn’t realize that we’d be butchering all these beautiful sea creatures. Look at them. You can see in their eyes that they know they’re doomed. They’ve been pulled from their natural habitat to be devoured by humans . . . by you. We call ourselves a compassionate species and we do this. Pretty pitiful.”
“You’re pitiful, Miles. You knew we were going fishing. It’s a sport. Millions of people do it. It’s not a crime. Wake up and smell the Halibut, for Christ’s sake.”
Miles looked at the stack of scaly carcasses in the cooler and noticed that the largest Halibut was stirring among its motionless companions. When he looked closer, his eyes made contact with the creatures. It’s appealing for its life, he thought. It wants me to save it. It’s in terrible pain. Miles reached for the sentient sea critter and grabbed it. Though the feeling of its quivering body repulsed him, he lifted it and heaved it overboard.
“Are you crazy, Miles? That was my catch. Biggest one I ever hooked,” shouted Ellis, astounded.
“If you love them that much, Miles, maybe you should join them,” barked Baker.
“Yeah,” agreed Ellis. “Come on guys. Let’s help Miles join his real friends.”
Before Miles realized what was happening, he was being hoisted off the deck and thrown into the Cook Inlet’s freezing waters. As he tried desperately to keep from sinking, he could hear his cohorts laughing back on the boat.
“Go find your fishy little buddies, Miles. Doubt they’ll be looking for you,” shouted Baker.
“Okay, better throw him a life preserver. Let’s reel him in, like we did his chums, or is it chum?” commented Ellis.
“You mean chump,” added Baker.
Miles was not a strong swimmer, and the arctic water defeated his efforts to remain afloat. Before the lifesaver could reach him, he sank below the choppy surface.
“Where the hell is he?” bellowed Ellis.
“I can’t see him. He’s gone under, man?” replied the deck hand, leaping into the water himself.
After several minutes, he was helped back on board without having located Miles.
“Oh, my God! He’s drowned. He’s gone! What can we do?” whimpered Ellis.
“I’ve radioed the Coast Guard. You guys are in a heap of trouble, and I’m probably going to lose my captain’s license. What the hell were you thinking?” growled the charter boat’s skipper.
“We were just joking. Didn’t mean for this to happen. He’s a friend,” protested Baker.
“A hell of a joke! You killed your friend.”
As Miles was about to lose consciousness, a mammoth Halibut swam up to him and placed its mouth over his and breathed into it. In the same instant, several other fish grabbed Miles and moved him toward shore. Miles sensed that something extraordinary was taking place, but his mind was too addled for him to fully grasp what was happening. By the time he regained lucidity, he was resting against a log back on the coastline.
They saved my life, he thought, incredulously, as he rose and walked toward the pier from which the charter boat had departed that morning.
“What the heck happened to you?” asked the boat lease agent as Miles approached. “Kinda cold in there to be swimming, young fella’.”
“I fell overboard,” answered Miles, not wanting to get his friends in trouble, knowing they did not intend him harm.
“When?”
“Just now.”
“Huh? The boat’s got to be miles off shore. How’s that possible? Got an outboard on your butt? You don’t even have a wet suit on. Someone rescue you?”
“Well . . . sort of.”
Miles was about to reveal the miracle that had occurred to him, but then thought better of it. He’ll think I’m crazy if I tell him the Halibut saved me. They did save me? he wondered for a second and again was convinced they had. Yes, they did. Of course, they did.
He was taken inside and advised to remove his wet clothes before hyperthermia set in. He draped his shoulders in the blanket he was given without fully wrapping his body in it.
“Darned if you don‘t even look that cold, son,” observed the man.
I’m not . . . I’m not cold at all, thought Miles, smiling knowingly.
“There’s your boat now,” said the elderly man, pointing toward the horizon. “Looks like it’s being escorted by the Coast Guard.”
When the boats tied up, a member of the Coast Guard crew was the first to enter the dock’s office.
“We got a man overboard under suspicious circumstances, Walt. Found no body. Guy couldn’t have survived out there very long,” he reported.
Two other Coast Guardsmen then escorted Mile’s friends inside. When they caught sight of him, they froze in shocked disbelief.
“Hi guys? How was the fishing?” asked Miles, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
“How . . . What . . . But . . .? stuttered Ellis.
Miles gave the group a hard look before answering.
“Some real friends rescued me.”
About the Author
Originally from Albany, New York, Michael C. Keith has paternal family roots stretching back to Clan Keith of Caithness and Aberdeenshire. A leading scholar in electronic media in the United States, he is the author of over 20 books on electronic media, as well as a memoir and three books of fiction. Much more about Michael and his publications can be found on his website: http://www.michaelckeith.com