Fan Fiction ❯ The One That Got Away ❯ Chapter 1

I pulled my tattered rags closer about me to give some protection from the cutting wind and peered into the small patch of open water I'd cleared in the ice, looking for any movement. Like the past half hour—or maybe it was an hour, I couldn't tell any more—nothing stirred. All I had to occupy my attention was my shivering, the ache in my joints from the fierce cold, and the intermittent cramping of my stomach. There! A flash of gold! Before it even had a chance to register in my mind, my hand lunged forward and the fish was imprisoned in my little, heavily-patched net. I lifted it out of the water and just stared at it for several seconds as it flopped and struggled, before my cold-numbed brain realized its significance and hope began to blossom in my breast. Food. As if roused by the thought, my stomach knotted in an exceptionally fierce cramp, doubling me over. Soon, my pet, I thought to it, and a feral smile grew on my face.

I took a moment to wonder how I was going to eat my prize. I had no knife and no way to make a fire, but I wasn't going to let that stop me. If I could find a sharp rock nearby, maybe I'd be able to cut off some of the scales; if not, I'd just bite into the thing and spit out whatever I couldn't chew and swallow. I didn't plan to waste much time looking for a good rock. In any case, I was going to be eating it raw. That thought didn't discourage me in the least.

“Oh, kind maiden, please have mercy,” a desperate voice softly implored from nearby. I quickly turned my head from side to side, sick fear washing through me as I sought whoever it was that wanted to take my fish from me. As the voice spoke again, I could hear that it was coming from my net, and with wide eyes, I turned back to the fish.

“I am a magic fish,” said the fish as it twisted its body in a very unfishlike way to look directly at me with one of its eyes. For the first time, I noticed how beautiful the fish was, with its rich and lustrous scales that actually looked like real gold. “If you spare my life,” it continued, “I will grant you three wishes.”

Again, it took my numb brain a few seconds to understand what the fish was saying. That the fish was actually talking to me. And then memories of stories, fairy tales my mother had told me... Before, when I still had a mother, and stories, and ... anything. Wishes! I could have my life back! Something besides cold, hunger, sickness, and loneliness. As I finally comprehended what was being offered to me, I gasped.

And as I sucked in the frigid air, icy needles of pain stabbed into my throat and chest, and my body was racked with an excruciating fit of coughing. I hunched over, repeatedly shaken by dry, wheezing coughs that further tore my abused throat and made it feel like a great hand was constricting my chest and throat. Over and over I coughed, unable to stop and unable to draw a breath. As my vision darkened and broke up into little dots and swirls, the sound of the wind was drowned out by a buzzing noise, and my head swam. I barely heard a faint splash as the net fell from my numb fingers, before my senses left me completely and oblivion took me.

I woke up feeling weak and aching. I was lying on my side, and my throat and chest felt raw and tight. I saw the rocks directly in front of me were coated with splotches of frozen blood, and beyond that, the handle of my net stood out of the hole that was already covered by a thin skin of ice one again. There was no sign of the fish on the ice. I slowly rose to my hands and knees and crawled to the net, grasping the handle and pulling it up, breaking the new ice that had formed. I stared at the empty net for several long seconds, realizing what it meant immediately, this time, but unable to accept it. When I finally did, I dropped the net and peered into the water, but there was no sign of gold.

“Magic fish,” I whispered hoarsely, “I let you go. Please come back and grant my wishes now.” But my only answer was the howl of the wind. “I wish I was healthy,” I breathed, but the burning in my chest and throat remained, and my body shook from the cold.

The wind blew little bits of ice into my face, and I started to crawl away from the river, leaving the net where it lay. After several yards, I managed to make it to my feet and staggered the rest of the way to the large cardboard box I'd been using to give me some shelter from the elements. As I collapsed into it, I was gratified to notice that at least my shivering had stopped and I no longer hurt so much. I felt so tired, though. I started writing about the magic fish: it was hard to hold the pencil because my fingers were numb, but it helped that my hand wasn't shaking any more.

I thought I'd be really sad and angry when I was writing, but I just felt numb inside. When I coughed, though, I felt ice on my cheeks that had formed from unnoticed tears crack. Maybe the fish would be back tomorrow and I could catch it then. At the moment, though, I was just so tired... At least the pain and cold were mostly gone

[Text written in a small notebook found in the middle of winter beside the body of a girl estimated to be in her early teens, near the bank of the Black River.]