Genesis
In the death throes of a particularly bitter winter, an old man sits and stares at the ocean. He loves the sea and everything in it. Two young children, a boy and a girl, sit next to him drinking cocoa out of chipped mugs.
"Tell us the story again!" exclaims the boy. The girl, his lifelong friend, is both old and precocious enough to think the old man's tales foolish but not so callous as to deny the boy the magic of a tall tale. She sits quietly and smiles to herself.
"Well, it's a story of high adventure, my lad." says the man with a knowing twinkle in his eye. "I don't know that you've got the stomach for it..."
"Please! Please, please, please!"
The girl stifles a laugh. This pantomime plays out every time the two get together. She's not sure who's the bigger kid. As is customary, the old man brings out a corncob pipe. It's not filled, he makes a point of never smoking around the kids, but he chews the end of it thoughtfully.
"Well, let's see... it started with my old pappy. I come from a long line of mariners from all walks of life. Pappy was a fisherman, his pappy before him was a naval engineer, his pappy before him an admiral. My old man taught me the ways of the sea. Taught me to respect her and to love her but by god, to fear her when she's angry! So this one night, he's out west by the lake. You know the lake?"
The boy nods. Of course he does, it's barely half a mile from his front door, but he's heard this story since he was 3 years old and the delivery has never once changed.
"So he's there, he's doing a bit of night fishing, he's having himself a little sip of something just to keep out the chill. Told me it was in early spring. Loved the spring did old pappy, he used to sing me this song about the daffodils... how did it go..."
"Tell me about what he found!" cried the boy, beside himself with excitement. The old man smiled. The lad always reacted like that.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Forgive an old man his wandering mind, won't you? So he's there, right, and he has his drink and the breeze is blowing through the daffodils and so on when he feels this tug on his line. Let me tell you boy, it's the moment that every fisherman prays for. Every night we pray, we never think it could happen, that the stories ain't true but I swear on my old pappy's bones..."
"What happened?!" The boy was actually jumping up and down now.
"It was... Him."
"Who?!"
"The ultimate catch. The jewel in every angler's collection. The great adversary, the eternal quarry. My lad, old pappy went and hooked himself The Legend."
At this, the boy was running up and down the pier, shouting and laughing, taking exaggerated bites at the cold evening air. His sister gave up and started laughing. The old man turned at the sound of heavier footsteps behind him, a young woman with red hair was trudging through the snow. She had kind eyes but looked tired. The sight of the little boy running up and down made her smile.
"Thanks for taking them, Willy. I hope they haven't been any trouble."
"Never a moment's bother, girl. Is she going to be okay?"
The smile faded. "Harvey says she'll be fine in a couple of days. Shock more than anything. It's a blessing that nobody else was involved but until we can get a mechanic to travel this far out, the bus is done for."
"Is Lewis going to revoke her license?"
She laughed bitterly. "License?"
"Did he find out how it happened?"
"You know how it happened, Willy." She was holding back tears, he could tell. "I'm not ready to talk about it."
And with that, she thanked him, gathered up the kids and headed north for home. He watched her until she was out of sight. Such a sad story. He'd watched the poor girl give her life to that alcoholic mother of hers only to have to watch her deteriorate a little more each day. He poured a measure of rum into his mug. Too cold to take the boat out tonight. Best to bring in what little haul he could from his doorstep.
Elsewhere, something watches. A cold, unfeeling intelligence. It perceives the dock from a great distance using senses that, to us, would be incomprehensible. It senses the dock not with sight or smell but something other. Whatever this creature is, it has dwelled in these waters since long before the coming of the warm bipeds and it will surely outlive them. It does not consider them fondly. Not hatred, no, but concepts such as love and hate are utterly alien to this creature. Unfeeling? Hardly. But like its senses, to know its thoughts and feelings would be simply impossible for us. In the dark, it waits. It has always waited. Once, perhaps, there were others like it but no longer. It is time for that to change. It shifts, oh so slightly, and expels an egg from some unseen orifice. Despite the subtlety of the movement, the displaced water causes enormous waves to rear up and surge toward the shore, carrying the egg with them. The creature moves carefully, yes, but it is LARGE.
The egg moves through the waters. Something moves inside it. The egg, like its parent, is also unusually large, around the size of a small car. The salt water seems to be having an effect on the shell, it's growing thinner, more translucent. Something can faintly be seen inside, something dark, curled into a foetal ball.
Willy looks with concern to the ocean. A storm looks to be brewing. His old hip's acting up again and there's plenty of foam on those waves; never a good sign. Might be time to call it a night. He knocks back the rest of his drink and starts to reel in his line when something catches. He can't tell what it is, the water is too choppy to see, but it's heavy. Unbelievably heavy. He pulls and he pulls, cursing himself for pouring such a large drink as he feels the soft warmth spread through his weakening arms. Go to bed, it says, go to the warm. But no, not tonight. This is no normal catch. He'd almost think he'd caught his hook on the pier itself from the weight but whatever this thing was, it was fighting back. He felt a cold breeze at his back. This was it. The only one that pappy lost, the one that got away and his old man was here with him. He could almost hear the old man's voice in the back of his mind, cackling and cheering for his little boy. He feels a cold weight by his arms, lending him strength, urging him to PULL.
With an almighty tug, the fish gives up and is pulled out of the water. It sails in an arc over Willy's head and lands behind him on the pier with a wet slap.
He isn't sure what to do. Whatever this is, it's obviously no fish. For one thing, it looks like a naked adult male, laid rigid on the pier and facing away from him. It's blue from cold and oxygen deprivation. Well, this is a turnup for the books. Pelican Town hasn't seen a police officer for some 5 years now but this will surely attract them. He silently thanks Penny for leaving the kids with him, he might need an alibi. Fear, adrenaline and alcohol make it hard for him to think. Does he bring the body inside? Should he avoid tampering with evidence? He decides that maybe it would be best to see what Harvey thinks about this.
The body stirs. Willy's blood freezes in his veins. Its head turns fully 180 degrees and looks directly at him but not with normal eyes. Those flattened, unblinking discs could never be mistaken for human eyes. The mouth opens, flaps noiselessly for a few moments. It has no teeth. A horrendous gasp issues from the beast and it starts breathing in a way that suggests it has been taught with breathing is but has never actually done it. Every inhalation is considered. It sits up, still beathing loudly, and rights the orientation of its head. It stands, limbs stiff and unresponsive. It stumbles and falls a few times but eventually seems to get the idea.
"WHERE IS FATHER."
It can talk. Or at least it can... declare? It speaks in an absolutely flat monotone, no cadence, an absolute and unbroken rhythm. It speaks like a machine. Willy's dry mouth can barely form words, he feels nauseous and is fighting an overwhelming urge to jump into the roiling waters to escape this... this THING. His shaking hand reaches, unthinkingly, to his bottle of rum. He takes a hefty pull.
"W-w-well now... stranger... what does yer old man look like?"
"FATHER IS AS OLD AS THE SEA, AS LARGE AS THE SEA, DARK AS ITS DEPTHS. I AM OF HIM, HE, THE CHILD OF THE FATHOMS."
The rum was doing its dark work. At least this creature didn't seem violent.
"I don't reckon I've seen nobody like that around here. He a... fish, boy?"
"WHAT IS FISH."
"You know, them creatures what comes from the ocean."
"AM I FISH."
"I... suppose that would make you a fish, yes. But tougher that any other I've ever tried to catch, that's fer sure..."
"FISH. TOUGHER. YES, I AM. THIS IS WHAT I AM. ARE YOU MY FATHER."
"I certainly ain't, boy. But if your pappy is a fish, there's only two ways you're gonna meet him. One's if you get on board on of them glass-bottomed submersibles, but they ain't gonna sail these waters until the next cold season."
"THE OTHER."
"T'other is if you hauls him out yourself. Only way to meet a fish I've ever known."
With that, it stomped off silently through the snow, glistening in the moonlight. Fish Tougher struggled with the air. Each breath brought cold, sharp agony. He felt that the ocean was a far more natural place to live but while his mind buzzed with thoughts of fish, salt and water, this body didn't seem suited. He came upon a small lake and threw himself into it. He tried to breath the clear water and nearly drowned. Hacking and shaking, he made his way back to land and shivered in the wind. He needed shelter. In the distance, to the north, he spied a derilict property. It looked unoccupied by any of those warm bloods. It would suffice and in the morning, he would begin his work.
He reached up to his tangled mass of blue hair. Something was caught in it. A pair of clear discs attached to a thin metal frame, both discs scratched and cracked after their time at the bottom of the lake. He considered them for a moment then placed them over his eyes. Perfect. He would hide his features, blend in with this community. When he earned their trust, he would procreate. Together, he and his progeny would seek their father.
"Tell us the story again!" exclaims the boy. The girl, his lifelong friend, is both old and precocious enough to think the old man's tales foolish but not so callous as to deny the boy the magic of a tall tale. She sits quietly and smiles to herself.
"Well, it's a story of high adventure, my lad." says the man with a knowing twinkle in his eye. "I don't know that you've got the stomach for it..."
"Please! Please, please, please!"
The girl stifles a laugh. This pantomime plays out every time the two get together. She's not sure who's the bigger kid. As is customary, the old man brings out a corncob pipe. It's not filled, he makes a point of never smoking around the kids, but he chews the end of it thoughtfully.
"Well, let's see... it started with my old pappy. I come from a long line of mariners from all walks of life. Pappy was a fisherman, his pappy before him was a naval engineer, his pappy before him an admiral. My old man taught me the ways of the sea. Taught me to respect her and to love her but by god, to fear her when she's angry! So this one night, he's out west by the lake. You know the lake?"
The boy nods. Of course he does, it's barely half a mile from his front door, but he's heard this story since he was 3 years old and the delivery has never once changed.
"So he's there, he's doing a bit of night fishing, he's having himself a little sip of something just to keep out the chill. Told me it was in early spring. Loved the spring did old pappy, he used to sing me this song about the daffodils... how did it go..."
"Tell me about what he found!" cried the boy, beside himself with excitement. The old man smiled. The lad always reacted like that.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Forgive an old man his wandering mind, won't you? So he's there, right, and he has his drink and the breeze is blowing through the daffodils and so on when he feels this tug on his line. Let me tell you boy, it's the moment that every fisherman prays for. Every night we pray, we never think it could happen, that the stories ain't true but I swear on my old pappy's bones..."
"What happened?!" The boy was actually jumping up and down now.
"It was... Him."
"Who?!"
"The ultimate catch. The jewel in every angler's collection. The great adversary, the eternal quarry. My lad, old pappy went and hooked himself The Legend."
At this, the boy was running up and down the pier, shouting and laughing, taking exaggerated bites at the cold evening air. His sister gave up and started laughing. The old man turned at the sound of heavier footsteps behind him, a young woman with red hair was trudging through the snow. She had kind eyes but looked tired. The sight of the little boy running up and down made her smile.
"Thanks for taking them, Willy. I hope they haven't been any trouble."
"Never a moment's bother, girl. Is she going to be okay?"
The smile faded. "Harvey says she'll be fine in a couple of days. Shock more than anything. It's a blessing that nobody else was involved but until we can get a mechanic to travel this far out, the bus is done for."
"Is Lewis going to revoke her license?"
She laughed bitterly. "License?"
"Did he find out how it happened?"
"You know how it happened, Willy." She was holding back tears, he could tell. "I'm not ready to talk about it."
And with that, she thanked him, gathered up the kids and headed north for home. He watched her until she was out of sight. Such a sad story. He'd watched the poor girl give her life to that alcoholic mother of hers only to have to watch her deteriorate a little more each day. He poured a measure of rum into his mug. Too cold to take the boat out tonight. Best to bring in what little haul he could from his doorstep.
Elsewhere, something watches. A cold, unfeeling intelligence. It perceives the dock from a great distance using senses that, to us, would be incomprehensible. It senses the dock not with sight or smell but something other. Whatever this creature is, it has dwelled in these waters since long before the coming of the warm bipeds and it will surely outlive them. It does not consider them fondly. Not hatred, no, but concepts such as love and hate are utterly alien to this creature. Unfeeling? Hardly. But like its senses, to know its thoughts and feelings would be simply impossible for us. In the dark, it waits. It has always waited. Once, perhaps, there were others like it but no longer. It is time for that to change. It shifts, oh so slightly, and expels an egg from some unseen orifice. Despite the subtlety of the movement, the displaced water causes enormous waves to rear up and surge toward the shore, carrying the egg with them. The creature moves carefully, yes, but it is LARGE.
The egg moves through the waters. Something moves inside it. The egg, like its parent, is also unusually large, around the size of a small car. The salt water seems to be having an effect on the shell, it's growing thinner, more translucent. Something can faintly be seen inside, something dark, curled into a foetal ball.
Willy looks with concern to the ocean. A storm looks to be brewing. His old hip's acting up again and there's plenty of foam on those waves; never a good sign. Might be time to call it a night. He knocks back the rest of his drink and starts to reel in his line when something catches. He can't tell what it is, the water is too choppy to see, but it's heavy. Unbelievably heavy. He pulls and he pulls, cursing himself for pouring such a large drink as he feels the soft warmth spread through his weakening arms. Go to bed, it says, go to the warm. But no, not tonight. This is no normal catch. He'd almost think he'd caught his hook on the pier itself from the weight but whatever this thing was, it was fighting back. He felt a cold breeze at his back. This was it. The only one that pappy lost, the one that got away and his old man was here with him. He could almost hear the old man's voice in the back of his mind, cackling and cheering for his little boy. He feels a cold weight by his arms, lending him strength, urging him to PULL.
With an almighty tug, the fish gives up and is pulled out of the water. It sails in an arc over Willy's head and lands behind him on the pier with a wet slap.
He isn't sure what to do. Whatever this is, it's obviously no fish. For one thing, it looks like a naked adult male, laid rigid on the pier and facing away from him. It's blue from cold and oxygen deprivation. Well, this is a turnup for the books. Pelican Town hasn't seen a police officer for some 5 years now but this will surely attract them. He silently thanks Penny for leaving the kids with him, he might need an alibi. Fear, adrenaline and alcohol make it hard for him to think. Does he bring the body inside? Should he avoid tampering with evidence? He decides that maybe it would be best to see what Harvey thinks about this.
The body stirs. Willy's blood freezes in his veins. Its head turns fully 180 degrees and looks directly at him but not with normal eyes. Those flattened, unblinking discs could never be mistaken for human eyes. The mouth opens, flaps noiselessly for a few moments. It has no teeth. A horrendous gasp issues from the beast and it starts breathing in a way that suggests it has been taught with breathing is but has never actually done it. Every inhalation is considered. It sits up, still beathing loudly, and rights the orientation of its head. It stands, limbs stiff and unresponsive. It stumbles and falls a few times but eventually seems to get the idea.
"WHERE IS FATHER."
It can talk. Or at least it can... declare? It speaks in an absolutely flat monotone, no cadence, an absolute and unbroken rhythm. It speaks like a machine. Willy's dry mouth can barely form words, he feels nauseous and is fighting an overwhelming urge to jump into the roiling waters to escape this... this THING. His shaking hand reaches, unthinkingly, to his bottle of rum. He takes a hefty pull.
"W-w-well now... stranger... what does yer old man look like?"
"FATHER IS AS OLD AS THE SEA, AS LARGE AS THE SEA, DARK AS ITS DEPTHS. I AM OF HIM, HE, THE CHILD OF THE FATHOMS."
The rum was doing its dark work. At least this creature didn't seem violent.
"I don't reckon I've seen nobody like that around here. He a... fish, boy?"
"WHAT IS FISH."
"You know, them creatures what comes from the ocean."
"AM I FISH."
"I... suppose that would make you a fish, yes. But tougher that any other I've ever tried to catch, that's fer sure..."
"FISH. TOUGHER. YES, I AM. THIS IS WHAT I AM. ARE YOU MY FATHER."
"I certainly ain't, boy. But if your pappy is a fish, there's only two ways you're gonna meet him. One's if you get on board on of them glass-bottomed submersibles, but they ain't gonna sail these waters until the next cold season."
"THE OTHER."
"T'other is if you hauls him out yourself. Only way to meet a fish I've ever known."
With that, it stomped off silently through the snow, glistening in the moonlight. Fish Tougher struggled with the air. Each breath brought cold, sharp agony. He felt that the ocean was a far more natural place to live but while his mind buzzed with thoughts of fish, salt and water, this body didn't seem suited. He came upon a small lake and threw himself into it. He tried to breath the clear water and nearly drowned. Hacking and shaking, he made his way back to land and shivered in the wind. He needed shelter. In the distance, to the north, he spied a derilict property. It looked unoccupied by any of those warm bloods. It would suffice and in the morning, he would begin his work.
He reached up to his tangled mass of blue hair. Something was caught in it. A pair of clear discs attached to a thin metal frame, both discs scratched and cracked after their time at the bottom of the lake. He considered them for a moment then placed them over his eyes. Perfect. He would hide his features, blend in with this community. When he earned their trust, he would procreate. Together, he and his progeny would seek their father.
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