The Hook

By Erick Wilund

The fish said to the hook, when I am old and swimming is an effort, when my fins are thin and transparent and my eyes are as murky as squid ink, will I regret how I’ve spent my life?

The hook floated silently but did not offer an answer.

What will my many years have taught me, and will I be wise enough to make good use of my learning? The fish continued.

The hook did not seem to have an answer for this either, so the fish probed further. Will I have chosen the right course? Will I be able to look back on my joys and travails, free of regret? Will I have been the best that I can be, done the best that I can do?

The hook swayed with the current but continued to sit, unmoved to respond.

And who will be beside me, when all those I’ve known are gone? Will the one who holds my heart still be near? For the pain of that loss is far too vast to fathom.

A great shark then emerged from the murky depths. Its black cold eyes looked at the fish, and then turned towards the hook. The hook remained immovable, and the shark swam closer to it, almost within its reach. You offer no insights, the shark whispered, and your steely visage is an enigma. The shark then moved towards the fish and stopped. Its stoney eyes stared, but the fish stood fast. You know the hook is there, unyielding and mysterious, but right now you are free to swim unfettered. The length of time until you meet again my be predetermined, but what you do with that time is up to you and you alone. That time is better spent on other endeavors, more worthy than this, so leave the silent sentinel to its own devices.

And with that, the great beast turned, and swam until the dark waters had swallowed it whole. The fish – who had been floating gradually away from the hook – turned as well, and moved off in its own direction without a parting glance.

The hook seemed to ponder this, but did nothing. It remained, floating silently, for it knew how to bide its time.

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