Stories

GOD FISH

In a far province between two mountains there lies a great lake. The people from round about have for centuries sustained themselves and their children by growing crops on the lower slopes and by fishing in the lake. On fine days taking flimsy boats into the shallows and casting their nets into the darkly clear water, and then gathering their catch whilst thanking God and the spirit of the lake for his bounty.

    There was a tale told down the years by the lakeside dwellers to their wide-eyed children; of a huge silver and gold fish living in the deep waters in the centre of the lake. Some claimed to have glimpsed him when the water was flat like glass and the full moon held sway.

    It was cute story and it continued to be told – even up to the present day despite the fact that no one currently living could honestly claim to have seen the giant fish themselves.

    As always modern times brought changes to the community. The boom of explosives could be heard in the early mornings; a mining operation high on the mountainside was extracting precious minerals and ores that were required in faraway lands for purposes unexplained to the locals. They adapted by staying away from the blasting areas – a hostile terrain but one where they had used to hunt for deer in the late summer. The meat was cured and was an important staple during the sometimes-harsh winters. Now instead they concentrated on cultivating their crops and fishing in their beloved lake.

    Until one day the village awoke to hear explosions, not coming from the hills but from out in the lake. Rushing to the shore they saw plumes of water shooting skywards.

    Over the morning it was discovered that the people on the western shore had obtained sticks of dynamite, used by the mining company, and were using them to stun or kill large numbers of fish. A meeting was swiftly arranged between the two villages – everybody would attend including the village mayors – and the views and wishes of the people would be aired.

    Passions ran high – both sides of the case were expressed and in the end – deadlock. Life is tough enough argued the advocates of this modern fishing method – catch all we can and then sell the rest – why stay out on the lake all day when a boat full of fish can be gathered in half an hour by using just one stick of dynamite. The other side of the argument was eloquently expressed but to many the wish to continue fishing with nets represented only a sentimental attachment to the past.

    In the end it was proposed that the paddle ferry would be commandeered and tomorrow at dawn the doubters could be taken out onto the lake and given an exhibition of the efficiency of the dynamite; seeing is believing was the war cry. An additional nuance was lent to the event when the mayor of the western village proclaimed that tomorrow they would unleash such a blast in the centre of the lake that they would probably bring the legendary giant fish out from his deep lair.

    Next morning the silver orb of the full moon was reflected in the bright mirror of the lake’s still surface and there was a muted anticipation as the boat filled up with those wishing to witness the capture of the God Fish. Those who disagreed with the whole enterprise were in a minority until their mayor declared that he himself could not participate – it was, he said, an affront to the spirits of the lake and that his conscience would not permit it. He stood with arms folded on the quayside, looking into the eyes of each who passed by to embark upon the steamer. He was a powerful presence commanding respect amongst all the fisherman and in the end only the men from the western village sailed away from the shore to stubbornly conclude their demonstration.

    The draw of the moon was irresistible – each phase of the twenty-eight day lunar cycle was observed and the waxing brought him ever further from the safety of his deep lair. Gently he glided up towards the silver goddess who ruled the aquatic realm – he would silently break the surface of the mirrored lake and then after just one glimpse of Her, offer his prayers before beginning his spiral descent.

    Straight away he saw that things were not as they should be. A large boat was nearby with many fisher people crowded on the decks - and as soon as he saw them, they saw him; he heard their shouts and divined immediately that he was their target. He quickly swam from his wife’s side, urging her back to the depths, and as he did he saw a red stick arcing through the sky towards him. It plopped into the water beside him.

    Driven by instinct he grabbed the fizzing stick in his mouth and swallowed it down before diving beneath the surface. With three swishes of his mighty tail he covered the distance with ease.

    A whole generation of men from the western village were wiped out as the ferryboat was reduced to matchwood. Those not killed outright were unable to swim due to their injuries and so drowned before help could come. There were no survivors.

    The waters of the lake turned a deep golden colour for the next three days. Officials from the city said it was an algae bloom triggered by the supermoon. But the fisher folk of the eastern shore knew different.

God Fish is from the Journey to Sonora Collection - This and other stories can be read on the completely free and marvelous Wattpad

John Luxton