Between the Fisherman and the Sea

Thunder rolled and lightning struck. Torrents of rain pelted down the streets and blocked the drains. Downpour came heavily, unmercifully. It filled the sea to the brim as droplets of pearly rain shimmered in the darkness before splashing down on the sea, leaving behind tiny ripples that tickled retreating fish. A lone fisherman sat in his boat. He was unfazed by the thunder, the only person still on the beach. All others had fled to their cozy homes long before. The fisherman would have fled, too, if he had somewhere to flee to.

Wet clumps of muddy sand slooched up his cheap green flip-flops as he limped slowly to the edge of the sea, a sorrowful, tanned silhuouette of an old man. A lamenting sigh escaped from his chapped lips, ever so faint, ever so soft...

The rain had covered him with pearls of water, dotting his exposed arms - weary, weathered, wizened arms. The fisherman was wearing a white undershirt and brown khakis. He looked at his sorrowful state and couldn't help but give an old shaky laugh at himsef. Look at him! Look at his demise! See how much he had fallen!

A bucket of fish lay obediently at his side as he swung the bucket in rhythm to his limping walk. He thought he saw his wife in the gleaming scales. For an instant, he allowed himself to think of her. She was dead now. So was their son. Their daughter was far away. He was alone, alone with the beach and the swooshing sea and the echoing wind and the fish. He was homeless.

Flashback...

"You have no money." A statement that escaped the landlord's mouth, full of distaste and contempt for the fisherman.

"I'm sorry! I didn't get to sell my fish in the market, because someone took my stall! I'll make it up. I promise."

"Give me the rent or you will not live in here," the landlord bellowed impatiently.

The fisherman did not answer.

"No money?" The landlord gave a leery glare at the fisherman. "That's it. Gimme the keys. Get out of here now."

The fisherman became homeless. He didn't mind being homeless, but he was still young then and had a beautiful girl that he loved and wanted to marry. How was he supposed to marry someone without a house? He contemplated his life and walked to the beach.

The beach was crystal clean, a stretch of pristine white sand. Whatever footprints he left, the foamy white tides washed away. He went to the water edge and felt the seawater lapping at his feet, the air permeated with a fresh, salty smell. He waded in deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper, until the water came up to his chest and he could feel water spraying onto his face when the wind blew. Still he waded in deeper, and when he felt ready, he gave a huge leap with all his might and tried to plunge down into the deep dark waters, never to come back up again. In midair, just before he reached the water's surface, a pair of arms caught him and brushed aside his hair and kissed his tears. It was the beautiful girl who married him later. it didnt matter that he was still homeless and penniless and lived from day to day with the money his fish sold for.

Then, they had children of course, and got a house.

But then she died.

Flashback ends .....

The fisherman looked at the rumbling sky and the roping rain. He looked at the sea, the waves, beckoning him to come. He took a step. And abother step. He contemplated the tumultous sea water again and thought that he would really do it this time, he would really plunge and live with his wife in Hades' world and never come back up. He was about to take the leap when he felt his wife's fingers brush away his hair that night long ago. Her nimble fingers felt so soft, so gentle, so full of life. He stood still. Frozen.

His wife had saved him again. He waded to the shallow edge of the sea and walked slowly in the sand, watching the foamy waters lap away his footprints, smiling just a little when he saw the sun peep out timidly from the stormy clouds.

~~ epilogue

The fisherman thought of his daughter. She resembled his wife so much. And so the fisherman loved the daughter as much as he once loved his wife, and he went to live with the daughter in some faraway place.

From then on, at least to the fisherman, the sun flung its golden flashing sunbeams onto the little house where the fisherman and the daughter lived in, far, far way, near a foamy sea.