The
One that Got Away, a prize-winning short story by Debra Williams
‘And
above me it sailed, coursing its way through the sky like a bird.’
(The Mariner’s Post, 1910)
‘Dan, check your line, mate!’
Dan bolted upright, sunglasses catapulting to
the ground. His rod, anchored in the sand, shuddered. The water bubbled and
burbled, sparkling diamonds shimmering and skipping across the surface.
‘You beauty!’ he yelled. ‘I knew you were out there!
Come to Daddy!’
He
had clung to the island tale: the flying fish that constantly evaded capture. Legend
said the denizen of the deep would be impossible to snare. Historic entries, supposedly from fishers in The Mariner’s Post, claimed
to have witnessed the ocean oddity leaping out of the water and flying over
their heads.
Nobody knew what it was. Some said it resembled
a prehistoric bluefin. Others said it had the body of an oversized moray eel and
the face of a flathead. Still others claimed it was a hybrid of a marlin and an
elephant shark. And some even suggested it was a rogue salmon. Since nobody
living had actually seen the fish, it was the stuff
of folklore and hearsay, invented to lure and entertain the tourists. Or was
it?
Dan was convinced he would catch it, and
thousands would flock to the island. The economy hadn’t recovered from a
worldwide downturn, resulting in a lack of tourism. His combined general store,
take-away and café, The Fish Shack, on the north-west coast was in trouble. Yep,
he needed a challenge and a hook for the tourists. The elusive sea creature was
in his sights.
White-knuckled, he gripped the rod. Frantically,
he cranked the reel, sweat beading his brow. He dug his heels into the ground
and heaved with all his might. The tighter he pulled, the more challenging the catch
became. The tug-of-war escalated.
Evan wrapped his arms around Dan’s waist and anchored
his body.
Dan reeled and pulled as the monster thrashed
just beneath the surface. Glimpses of bright silver occasionally burst through as
man and fish battled each other.
‘I.
can’t. pull. it. in.’ Dan strained through gritted teeth, heels deep in the
sand. ‘The. line’s. about. to. break!’
SNAP! There it went. With an almighty splash,
the fish shot into the air like a bullet and took off at the speed of light.
Up, up, and away the long silver streak flew. Dan crashed backwards, almost pinning
Evan underneath. He scrambled to his feet, and they raced to the SUV. The fish
cruised slowly, the breeze at its back.
‘Where’s it going?’ Dan puffed. ‘I mean, just
how far can a flying fish travel?’
‘Up to 1.3 kilometres,’ said Evan. ‘But there’s something strange about this one. Can you get
a shot of it?’
‘Strange, all right,’ Dan agreed. Phone in
hand, he leaned out of the passenger window, snapping furiously as they sped
along. ‘It’s hard to get a decent pic at this distance.’
The silvery shape, previously travelling in a
straight line, began to dip and wobble as the breeze strengthened. The two
mates pressed on. Abruptly, they arrived at the end of the road and stopped in
the semicircle of the sandy car park. The only route was on foot, through a
narrow track between the dunes. They leapt out of the SUV and ran, weaving
through the spiny growth that attacked their arms and legs, searing sand
barbecuing the soles of their feet. Ignoring the pain, they reached the edge of
the dunes on the beachfront slope.
The
fish hovered above, small wings fluttering. It danced on the sea breeze,
flashing thousands of silvery shards in the strong sunlight. Then, with the
immediacy with which it had propelled from the water, it dropped vertically and
landed on the burning sand.
‘Got
it, mate!’ Dan called, exulted. ‘I win!’
Suddenly, the fish’s body flattened, one wing
projecting skyward. It stopped moving. Evan stepped forward and bent down.
‘Ah, mate, you might want to take a look at
this.’ He slid a branch under the fish and lifted it aloft.
Dan’s
cheeks burned with embarrassment. What faced them was a deflated helium
balloon.
The
thousands of silvery scales were foil. The eyes, dull and staring, were painted
on.
Dan
was mystified. ‘What? But how did it fight like such a monster?’
‘It
probably blew into the water and got stuck under a rock,’ Evan observed. ‘And developed a hole in the tussle.’
Dan
took hold of the foil body. ‘Now, what can I do with you?’ he asked the
lifeless fish.
A new idea took hold. He grinned and winked at
Evan.
‘Come
on, let’s get back to the shop. We’ll get those flaming tourists back one way
or another.’
Dan
rinsed the foil body. He cut an opening beneath the tail and filled the body
cavity with scrunched-up newspaper balls. He glued a glass eye on one side,
giving the fish a realistic appearance. He created a small hole in the fish’s
other side and carefully sealed the tail opening closed. He held it up to admire his
handiwork.
‘There
you go,’ he said proudly. ‘Looks like the genuine article.’ He pulled the
ladder over from behind the counter. ‘Give us a hand, mate. Hold the ladder
steady while I stick this up on the wall.’
The
fish sat proudly on the hook attached to the wooden backing board, ready to be admired by all.
They
began to flock to the island again when news of the capture surfaced in the
nation’s newspapers. Tourists stood in awe to admire the oddity. Hot drinks,
take-away meals and the sale of fishing gear buffered The Fish Shack’s income
once again.
‘Unbelievable,’ the deep-sea fishers
commented. ‘How did you catch it?’
Dan
constantly explained the gargantuan battle, the challenge taking precedence
over anything. For months, Dan’s business thrived on a legend nobody had ever
seen.
One
bitterly cold winter’s day, a woman and her son barged into the shop.
‘What can I get you?’ asked Dan.
‘A
hot chocolate, cappuccino, and a plate of hot chips, please,’ answered the
breathless woman. She sat with the boy at a small table, rubbing her icy hands
together. The woman gazed up at the fish.
Dan
beamed. ‘What do you think of our local legend?’ he asked. ‘Took me a mammoth
battle to land that beast, I can tell you.’
The
woman eyed Dan carefully. ‘A mammoth battle?’ she questioned.
Dan
nodded glumly.
Evan chimed in as he exited the storeroom. ‘It
sure was, lady. Took two of us to bring it in.’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘You know,’ she said. ‘That
almost looks like…’
With
that, the boy turned his tanned, freckled face towards the fish on the wall,
his mouth dropping open.
‘It is!’ he exclaimed. ‘That’s my balloon!
Give it back!’
A sudden ripping sound turned everyone’s gaze
to the wall. In a slow-motion move, the newspaper-filled fish glided forward
towards the counter. It flopped unceremoniously on the countertop, the
artificial glass eye staring at the ceiling.
Dan
carefully handed the foil fish to the boy. ‘Here you go, mate,’ he said. ‘I’m
sorry, but it doesn’t fly anymore.’
The
boy clutched it to his chest and beamed. ‘That doesn’t matter, mister,’ he
replied. ‘He’s my special fish. I’m gonna take him home.’
Dan’s mind raced. He looked around the shop
to ensure no other customers were about.
‘Here,’ he said, handing over the chips and
drinks. ‘These are on the house.’ He winked at the mother and son. ‘Can we keep
this little story between us?’
‘Okay,’ the woman agreed, looking at her
beaming son. ‘I’m just glad Archie has him back. It took a lot of convincing
for me to buy it for him.’
‘Me too,’ Dan agreed. ‘Nothing so important
as a kid’s happiness.’ After they left, Dan breathed a sigh of relief.
Evan looked at the empty wall space.
‘What’ll we tell everyone?’ he asked. ‘When
they ask where it’s gone?’
Dan scratched his head. ‘Well, mate, the
truth. It fell off the wall and we couldn’t fix it.’ He chuckled. ‘But you know
what?’
Evan shook his head. ‘No. What mate?’
Dan
grinned. ‘It means the big fella is still out there, waiting to be caught. Oh
yeah, I’ve got another challenge now!’
Evan rolled his eyes, sighed and clapped Dan
on the back. ‘Another challenge. Okay, buddy. Just tell me when. Yep, just tell
me when.’ And they both laughed hard.
