Rising from his content mind to enter an unknown world, following the words of an unexpected friend. A short story about a lost Fisherman finding his true calling.

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Walking through the brisk fall air, admiring autumn’s withering leaves, the Fisherman carries on from his home. He follows the same routine every night, not a minute past dusk. It’s perhaps a little monotonous, but he doesn’t mind; he thinks he enjoys fishing– it’s his livelihood, after all. But he feels like something is missing, a hole wishing for something. He knew not what lapsed from his heart, but he aimed to figure it out.

As he approaches his truck, his bags begin to feel heavier, dipping his arms downward and weighing his feet ever so slightly. Wrenched with familiar fatigue, he lugs his gear forward, accepting the feeble exhaustion. He requires a vast amount of equipment; fishing cannot begin without it. It isn’t unbearable for him- he maintains a strong composure and mentality- but his body is starting to give in. It’s been only 10 years of this career, and he has yet to regret his decisions.

He lifts the weighted bags into the trunk of his truck, watching his suspension move like a gentle wave. He glazes over his equipment, ensuring everything required is present:

Baits? Check. Hooks? Check. Rods? Check. Snacks? Check.

He verifies each item is present by going down his laundry list of tools and nourishment. He knows he won’t forget anything, yet he continues questioning himself every time, checking that his mind hasn’t become numb from each day’s repetition. His lifestyle is withering him, both mind and body. But this is the price he pays for comfort and enjoyment. Even though his days are long and arduous, he knows they are worth occurring. Everyone will always need fish, and he will lose the necessary funds if he doesn’t acquire enough fish daily. That’s the curse of a fisherman in his eyes—harsh days with no means of an end.

He concludes his final checks by inspecting the worn boat attached to his truck’s rear. Firing it up briefly, inspecting the various gauges and meters, and watching the lights sparkle on the dashboard like a festive winter night. A deep grumble slithers from his throat, an approving sign acknowledging the readiness of the boat. All is ready, and he is prepared to begin his time on the sea. And so, he hops into his truck and sets onward to the lake.

It doesn’t take long to arrive as few drive around this hour. Most people are accustomed to sleeping in on the weekends, making driving around more bearable for the Fisherman. He reaches his desired fishing site and begins to dock his boat. Dropping it in the water at the bottom of the slipway, the boat is slowly packed up and tied to the dock to allow the Fisherman to park his car on the side of the dock. Fishermen have slowly evacuated this particular dock, unwilling to venture too far into the sea. Although the shore still has countless bass around it, they’re usually controlled by the otter population, harming fishermen’s success rates at this dock. And, of course, most fishermen dislike going too far into the sea for whatever reason. This pleases the Fisherman; it’s a moment of peace for him. The less competition, the better; the fewer people, the happier he can be.

He slips into his boat, untying the hemp ropes from the dock, and begins his excursion farther into the sea. The deep scent of the water fills his nose, granting serenity and love. He may be tired of his career, but he loves it dearly with every ache in his body. The boat chops 500 feet from the dock, far enough to be away from the shore but not too far if he needs to return for a second. His rod is set with the chicken liver and cast to the sea’s water. Now, he waits. Fishing isn’t something to be forced or rushed; there’s no point in rushing a slow process since it causes uneasiness or discomfort. So he waits, patiently and calmly.

Within hours, the Fisherman is exhausted. His eyes begin to droop with the morning sun beginning to rise. Light slowly conquers his face, and he knows it’s time to go home. This doesn’t deter him from finishing, and he wishes to get one more fish before sailing back to his truck. With a final line cast, he waits for the final catch to complete his day. Watching and waiting, a tug suddenly pulls the rod downwards toward the water. This tug felt off to the Fisherman, as if something heavier is dragging the line down. Usually, the Fisherman manages to catch medium-sized fish; nothing too heavy, but he can tell when they’re too small for his preferences. But, this time, the fish felt larger and heavier. He begins to sink his hook into the fish’s gums, slowly reeling it in to admire his final catch. Reeling and reeling, feeling the tightness of the fish’s struggle deepen and increase. He watches the bubbles where the hook is coming from and notices an odd object wading through the water. This doesn’t deter him, and he continues on with his endeavor. As the fish begins to leave the water, all he can see is a tiny crappie on his line, but there’s something connected to it, something hairy and slim—an otter.

The Fisherman has never encountered an otter while fishing before; this is a rare sight for him. Why is an otter fightin’ my line? He thought to himself. He brings the fish and otter closer to his boat and carries them onto the deck. Peering down at the little otter, staring at him, he releases the fish from the hook. Rather than taking the fish, the Fisherman decides to hand it to the otter, who just blinks at the Fisherman with its amber eyes. The otter extends its small arms outward, grabbing the small crappie and carefully eating it. The Fisherman is astonished, Why on earth is this otter not movin’? he questions. After finishing his fish, the otter just stares at the Fisherman for a moment, looking deeply at the Fisherman’s features and demeanor. Its eyes swirl around the boat with a nose smelling about. It is calmer than the Fisherman expected; it shows no fear or distress, as if it is comfortable with being around the Fisherman. Once the otter seemingly processes the Fisherman, it jumps off the boat and swims away, leaving the Fisherman in awe. “Goo’bye lil’ feller,” the Fisherman mumbles under his breath.

Awestruck by his encounter, the Fisherman begins to skirt his boat from the sea to pack everything back up and leave. He maintains his confusion about this experience but knows he has more to do before the start of the waking day.

He parks his boat back at the slipway, reties his ropes, and prepares to bring his truck to receive the docked boat. The boat is placed on the trailer, and the Fisherman proceeds to unpack the boat with ease. This is not the same Fisherman who started at dusk; he’s glowing with amazement and love for the random otter who graced him. A fire in his heart began to glow, urging him forward to come back again. The Fisherman finishes packing and drives off, leaving the sea for the next day.

Multiple days have passed, the same tasks, the same work, the same days continuing without interruption. The otter hasn’t visited the Fisherman since the initial encounter, which concerns the Fisherman. Where’s my lil’ buddy? the Fisherman wonders to himself. He often thinks about the otter; it was the first positive light he has experienced in years. The Fisherman has never been the most sociable person; he finds it easier to be alone and to himself rather than worried about the means of others. But something about animals makes him light up with glee and love. The otter revitalized him for that moment, and it will ride with the Fisherman until the end of time.

As days continued, and the Fisherman still didn’t see his newly found friend, he began to think that the otter had left the sea and ventured onto a new area after his encounter. Hiding his sadness, the Fisherman fears that was the first and only time he’d receive the otter’s grace. One day, while fishing, the Fisherman notices a small body swimming up to his boat.  “Is that you?” the Fisherman asks, hoping the ripples would be his newly found friend.

The otter pops its head above the water, gleaming its amber eyes directly at the Fisherman. Filled with excitement, the Fisherman reaches his hand down to bring the otter aboard, and the otter diligently climbs up the Fisherman’s ragged shirt. Plopping itself down, the otter stares at the Fisherman as if it were waiting for something. “Ya want some fish?” the

Fisherman asks the otter, reaching for his bucket. The otter perks its head towards the

Fisherman’s fish and claps on the boat’s deck. The Fisherman pulls a small fish from the bucket and hands it to the otter. It snatches the fish and begins to munch on the oily carcass, eating away in front of the Fisherman.

Thank you

The Fisherman became scared. Where did that voice come from? That wasn’t mine. Who’s in my head? he thought to himself. Shaking with fear, the Fisherman looks around him, trying to identify where the unknown voice came from. Panic begins to ensue, controlling his mind with endless possibilities. Nothing is making sense to him, and he doesn’t know how to react. This doesn’t happen; it has never happened to him.

Suddenly, the otter hops off the boat and begins to swim away. No goodbye, no farewell; it just started to swim to wherever it came from, leaving the Fisherman in fear. It didn’t, did it?

No, that’d be insane; that’s impossible! the Fisherman exclaims in his head, continuing to rattle off the possibilities of his encounter. With this confusion, he ends early, leaving his fishing area uneasy and unsure of himself. He knows animals can’t speak to people; that has never happened before, but there is no other answer for who talked to him just then. His mind begins to doubt itself, causing internal panic. The Fisherman leaves the lake and waits for the following day with one goal: to find the otter.

More days passed, and the otter still hadn’t returned to the Fisherman. Where is he? I have to try. the Fisherman thinks to himself. After waiting, the otter soon appears, floating diligently beside the Fisherman’s boat.

Hello friend.

The Fisherman stares, held by terror, unsure how to proceed. Can I come back on? the otter seems to ask. The Fisherman begins to doubt himself, thinking he’s just tired and needs to catch up on lost hours of sleep. But, without thinking further, the Fisherman extends his arm into the water to allow the otter to come aboard. Climbing up, the otter chirps at the Fisherman, showing some kind of appreciation.

“How’re ya speakin’?” the Fisherman asks, feeling silly trying to communicate with this random otter. But the otter just shakes its head.

I’m not speaking; I’m just thinking to you. The Fisherman becomes increasingly scared; nothing makes sense to him. Can I have more fish? the otter seemingly asks. The Fisherman just shakes his head, refusing to believe what is happening.

“This is impossible; what’re ya doin’?” he exclaims. The otter just stands there, waiting hopefully.

A few seconds pass, and neither has moved, waiting for the other to do something before proceeding. “Please jus’ answer me; what’s happenin’?” the Fisherman asks, his quivering voice.

You have graced me twice, and I hoped to be graced again. the otter says. The Fisherman worriedly begins to grab a fish from his bucket and brings it to the otter’s area. The otter grabs the fish and proceeds to eat it without hesitation. Thank you, friend. Can I stay with you for a while? the otter asks. All the Fisherman can do is nod his head with acceptance of his situation.

The otter and the Fisherman sit and stare at one another for several minutes, neither wishing to scare the other. It wasn’t until the otter began first, I’ve been watching you for some time now, amazed at your fishing ability, the otter said. The Fisherman just nods, still unsure of his new companion. Do you have friends to help you? the otter asks. To which the Fisherman shakes his head,

“No, I’m all by m’self,” he said. The Fisherman notices the otter has a sad look as if it is emoting his sorrow for the Fisherman.

I was like you once, but I have a family now, the otter expresses.

What does he mean? the Fisherman asks himself, How are we similar? He’s an otter, I’m a person.

“Where’ya from?” the Fisherman asks the otter.

Here, the otter says “So ya lost ya family?”

No, I found my family.

“How?”

 By becoming me.

“What does that mean? Ain’t ya always been yerself?”

No, I was also a fisherman once.

Instant anxiety consumes the Fisherman, riddled with unease and confusion. What does it mean? the Fisherman thought to himself. Nothing makes sense to the Fisherman, an otter cannot be a person, and a person cannot be an otter. It’s impossible that it was a fisherman, the Fisherman thought to himself.

As the sun begins to rise from its slumber, the otter proceeds to leave. “Wait! Ya didn’t explain yerself!” the Fisherman exclaims. But to no avail, the otter proceeds to leave the boat and slowly swims away. All that is left is the Fisherman, alone and scared, sitting by himself in the rocking waters. 

As his day ended, the Fisherman took some time to think about the otter’s words. There are few explanations for what the otter meant by what it said. Thinking about the endless possibilities surrounding the otter, the Fisherman could not come to an answer. Instead, he decides to confront the otter more the following day, hoping to receive some reasoning behind what is happening.

Upon the following day, the Fisherman decides to forego his typical monotonous tasks. Ignoring all of his necessary equipment, he rushes to the sea with his boat and prepares to set sail. But something had changed. Usually, the otter meets the Fisherman in the sea, but this time, the otter boards the boat immediately, preparing to set sail with the Fisherman. It’s been some time since I’ve started at a slipway, the otter said. The Fisherman has yet to be used to the otter’s antics. It feels like a curse, controlling his mind and forcing deprivation of self rather than a blessing to have a friend. Nothing is making sense, but nothing has made sense since the first encounter with this otter.

“Please tell me, am I dead?” the Fisherman asks the otter with a quivering voice. The otter just shook its head, waiting to sail with the Fisherman. “Please give me an answer. I don’t want to set sail until I have one,” the Fisherman exclaims.

Set sail, and I will answer.

The Fisherman nods towards the otter, and off they go. Once they reached the usual fishing spot, the Fisherman took a moment to gain his wits about him, taking in the harsh air of mid November, breathing deeply to calm his nerves and slow his wandering mind from chaos. Although scared and confused, he feels a sense of whimsy and calmness. It isn’t normal; nothing is expected here.

Are you lonely, Fisherman? the otter asks. All the Fisherman does is nod, with tears slowly welling in his eyes. Do you want to not be lonely? the otter retorts. But this took the Fisherman back for a second. He began to figure out how the otter could read him so well. Is the otter a god? An ethereal being?

“How do I do that?” the Fisherman inquires, hope filling his voice.

Take my hand, the otter responds, reaching his hand out to touch the Fisherman. The Fisherman obeys. With one swift movement, the otter pulls the Fisherman off his boat, bringing him deep into the water. The Fisherman began to panic underwater as he slowly lost his breath. He is swinging and swaying back and forth with the otter dragging him forward. As quickly as the Fisherman is pulled off the boat, he awakens, surrounded by more otters.

Where the hell am I? Why can I not talk? What is going on? The Fisherman exclaims in his mind. He feels as if he can’t move, suffocating under a boulder. His life had been so simple, yet now it feels so complex. Lost in a world he thought he knew, just to figure out he truly knew nothing about what surrounded him.

Calm yourself, my friend, said an otter. The Fisherman recognizes him even though they all look identical. This is the otter he had been feeding, the one he met in the lake. You’re with family now; you are one with us. The Fisherman couldn’t figure out what that meant. Why would an otter claim such a thing? A human and an otter cannot be family; they are inherently different. The Fisherman’s mind went wild with regret, looking back at what he could have done to escape this fate. But it is too late, and he is stuck, soon to be devoured by the otter family.

Can I please go home? I don’t want this anymore, the Fisherman thought.

Go home? But you are one of us now, the otter proclaims.

You can hear me? the Fisherman asks.

Yes, look at yourself; you are one of us; the otter reaches for a mirror and holds it in front of the Fisherman. The Fisherman’s heart sinks, astonished, concerned, and in disbelief. Standing where he is positioned is an otter in the mirror. Not a human, not people, not a man, but an otter.

What did you do to me? How is this possible? Why am I being punished? Who are you? What is this… the Fisherman’s thoughts ramble on and on, filling the minds of the surrounding otters.

Calm yourself, I must explain, the otter began, We too were fishermen once, preying on the fish to endure the livelihood of ourselves. We, too, had your lifestyle and mind, living as if the world hinges on our abilities. But, one day, people began to go missing. Have you ever wondered why the lake is so empty at peak fishing hours? the otter asks.

The Fisherman began to wonder. When the Fisherman had just begun, many individuals went fishing at his same lake. They nearly picked the lake dry of all of the natural resources, leading to depopulation, and then people began to disappear. The otter population began to boom, while the Fisherman was the final survivor of the disappearances.

We are all those who went missing. We don’t know how this started, but otters have been transforming fishermen for eons. The trained fishers became the natural fishers. And so we had to continue. Soon, all fishermen became what we are today, the otter explained. It all started to make sense to the Fisherman. He was wrong; he thought everyone avoided fishing there due to coastal fishing, but that is wrong. Fishermen just disappeared; they never left. Do you wish to stay with us? the otter asks, Or would you like to leave?

What does leaving mean? Do I become a person again? the Fisherman asks.

No, you can never go back. You would have to leave this sea, the otter responds. The Fisherman has to think. His brain is still not registering what is happening. If he leaves, he will leave his home; if he stays, he’ll wish to return to the human world.

Looking around the cave he was brought to, he notices the dozens of otters standing together, staring at the Fisherman with glowing amber eyes. Suddenly, He felt calm, as if a feeling of grace whipped through his brain. He began to understand and appreciate the gift bestowed on him. For the Fisherman has no family, he has no friends; the Fisherman works and sleeps; there is nothing else. To be provided a family who will work with him, who will live with him, and who will nurture him when he needs it most is a gift none can provide. He is no longer alone, and that’s all he wished for in the end.

I guess I will stay and be with you.