Hook
I took a sip of water just before I went to bed. If I drink more, I wake up in the middle of the night for a trip to
bathroom and the tormenting insomnia afterward is inevitable. I’ve learned that water at night epitomizes
shattered dreams and painful awakening.
I tucked myself in and before closing my eyes, glanced at the image of myself victoriously parading my prized
catch dangling from the fishing line wrapped around my hand.
I tried hard to keep my bait just below the water surface and the rod straight up toward the sky making sure
the fish doesn’t sense its presence. Then I wobbled the pole to bring the bait to life and lure the fish. From
time to time, I felt a nibbling on my bait but I didn’t react, as I knew it was a little one. Patience is the key to
success. Later, the big fish opened its mouth wide to snatch its prey in one swift action and that was the
precise moment I hooked it.
Every minute of that occasion was vivid in my mind, the reward immortalized on my bedroom wall. Even the
same fishing line tied to the original hook was secured over the picture of the fish’s mouth to give my trophy
the bitter taste of harsh reality. The superimposition of the real hook on the depicted memory was stunning.
The hook in the lifeless creature’s mouth brightened my dark room after all these years.
Its opaque black eyes were piecing through me as hard as my solid bronze hook was piercing its blood-
crusted mouth.
I went to sleep and despite all my precautions, I woke in middle of the night and opened my eyes just enough
to check the time and noticed the glowing 3:00 am on the clock was dancing in the darkness. Suddenly I
realized my entire body was wet. I too was floating in the rising water. My bed was in water along with
everything else in the room. The entire house was flooded. I’d had many bizarre dreams in the past but this
one was incomprehensible. It was not one.
Every piece of furniture in the house was either submerged in the water or freely floating. I managed to open
the window just to see the entire neighborhood sharing the same destiny. I swam outside and saw a raging
river where the street was yesterday. People, pets and furniture were all afloat. The eerie tranquility hovering
over this horrific tragedy was stunning. Everyone was calm. Most people were still asleep in their beds on the
river. I could see a man and a woman making love, babies sleeping in their cradles and I could hear dogs
snoring, all on the waves.
The river was washing everyone away, yet no one was alarmed. I could go back to sleep and drift away like
others but stayed home and learned to embrace my new life.
It took me some time but I gradually adapted to my new environment and morphed into an amphibian and
became an aquatic creature. The only thing the water took away from me was my memories. Later, I grew
scales on my skin and acquired several sets of fins. Then I developed a new respiratory system that allowed
me to immerse in water for as long as I wished. I also grew a tail to provide thrust and acceleration while I’m
swimming. My eyesight evolved to adapt to my marine environment and now I can masterfully dodge the
obstacles in my way in the darkness.
I feed on bugs, worms, flies and gnats and occasionally a fish if I happen to stumble across one. I freely roam
around in my natural habitat but I’m not immune to pain. I have experienced numerous scars on my scales
when I tried to tunnel through the disintegrating furniture of my house but I always managed to escape
dangers throughout my life as a fish.
One day as I was so hungry and searching for something to eat, I noticed the shadow of a fish flopping its tail
on the water in my bedroom. Frantically, I rushed to snatch my food and emerged from water, opened my
mouth wide to swallow my prey and suddenly a sharp metal ripped my mouth. The more I struggled to free
myself the more the razor edge barbs on the hook injured my face. Finally I stopped trying as I realized how
securely the hook was wedged in my flesh.
From that day on, my entire body hopelessly flaps in the water while my head is stuck in the air with my mouth
wide open. I can still breath air and ingest bugs and flies if they accidentally get trapped in my mouth. Every
night before I go to sleep, I glance at the look on the man’s face holding me by the fishing line wrapped
around his hand victoriously parading his prized catch.
My opaque black eyes are piecing through him as hard as his solid bronze hook is piercing my blood-crusted
mouth.