The Fisherman
A Short Story
He was there every evening when I arrived, his fishing pole in the water, never saying a word. I tried to talk to him a couple of times, but he only grunted in response, so I stopped trying.
One day, my curiosity got the better of me, and I sat on a nearby park bench and started reading a book, as I always did. It was nearly dark when he packed up, but I had formulated a plan. I followed him. I hadn’t planned on following him, but I couldn’t resist. I kept him in sight as he headed for the seedy side of town. The old brick tenement building he entered was older than dirt. I reached the lobby in time to see him park the bike in a corner and head upstairs.
I followed him, the stench of old trash and other smells making me gag. He opened a door at the end of the hall and went inside. Summoning my courage, I rapped on his door. The door cracked open.
“Go Away.
I pushed the door slightly to keep him from closing it on me. “Sir.”
“Who are you?”
“Daniel Jackson.”
“What do you want?” The door opened a little more.
“I don’t know.” I stumbled for words. “I was worried about you. You’re always fishing at the same spot each day but never seem to catch anything.”
The man sighed and opened the door. “Come in. I suppose you’re not leaving until I talk to you.”
The small apartment was sparsely furnished and well-worn. I noticed an antique sideboard covered with photos and medals.
He gestured toward the photos. “My family, when I had one. Lewis Crawford—my name. Coffee?”
“Nice to meet you, Lewis. Yes, I’d love a cup of coffee.”
Coffee ready, he handed me an overfilled cup. As I sipped the steaming hot strong coffee, I glanced at fishing poles leaning in the corner, and his eyes followed my gaze. “Yeah, that.” He sipped his coffee. “Truth of the matter, I’m not fishing—I’m waiting.”
“Waiting?”
He shifted in his chair. “She was supposed to come, but she never did.”
“Who never came?”
Lewis leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes as if to remember. I suspect he remembered all too well. He sighed. “My daughter was supposed to meet me there. We were going to fish, but she never showed up.”
I leaned forward on the couch. “Tell me about it.”
“It was years ago. We were supposed to meet and go fishing before she left for college. She never came.” Suddenly he seemed even older.
“Did she tell you why?”
“No, I never heard from her again. She just disappeared, and I never saw her again.”
Lewis wandered to the sideboard and picked up a photo. “This—this was her.” The picture was of a young woman about twenty and taken long ago from the style of her clothes.
“Pretty woman.” I returned the frame to him.
“Pretty smart too— got a scholarship.”
“Why do you keep going back after all these years?”
He leaned against the sideboard, sadness on his face. “Because it’s the only thing I have left to live for. If I don’t go, I may not get up in the morning.”
I smiled and knew what I had to do. “I tell you what. I’m retired now with too much time on my hands. I think it’s time I took up fishing.”
The beginnings of a smile appeared on Lewis’s face, and the glimmer of joy in his eyes was all I needed to know. We were going to have a great friendship.
About the Creator
Kenneth Lawson
Baby Boomer,Writer, Connoisseur of all things Classic: Movies, Television, Music, Vinyl, Cars, techonolgy
I write stories that bend genres and cross the boundries of time and space.
New Story every Month
Reader insights
Nice work
Very well written. Keep up the good work!
Top insights
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Keep reading
More stories from Kenneth Lawson and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Family Pictures
The Ferris wheel creaked and groaned as it spun, defying gravity. As a kid in the southwest, I had a love/hate thing with Ferris wheels. But something was alluring about seeing the world perched atop a rickety wheel held up by bars of steel and spun on demand.
By Kenneth Lawsonabout a year ago in Fiction
Violence Begets
"Any last words, cowboy?" "None you'd understand, sodbuster." "Funny. That's Marshall Sodbuster to you. But I meant some last nugget that would help us in the adjudication of the myriad offenses counted against you and your gang. I wasn't asking for penitence."
By Adam Diehl3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (14)
Ken, aka; fellow 'Boomer.' It seems that VSS grouped us with a tribute, though I'm not even a member. But, they certainly had my back during the 'Freeze' - such a blessing. May I introduce myself: I'm just a silly storyteller with my goofy sketches that lead into them, nothing more, it's just fun for me during retirement. Best to you, Kenneth Jay Kantor, Chatsworth, California 'Senior' Vocal Author - Vocal Village Community -
What a splendid, heartfelt work. Stellar job Kenneth. I'm so glad I came across you.
I love this Kenneth! It really didn't go where I thought it was going. Genre-bending indeed. Well done :)
This story is beautifully written and captures the quiet, enduring nature of grief and human connection in a deeply moving way. The main character’s initial curiosity about Lewis, the solitary man who spends his days fishing without ever catching anything, turns into a compassionate understanding of a man still mourning the loss of his daughter. The details—the old apartment, the photos, the worn fishing poles—paint a vivid picture of someone who has lost not just a loved one, but a piece of themselves. What’s so compelling here is how the story gently unravels Lewis’s pain. The gradual revelation of why he continues to fish every day—waiting for someone who never showed up—is heart-wrenching, but the subtlety in the telling makes it all the more poignant. You can feel the weight of the years he’s spent clinging to that memory, the emptiness he’s tried to fill with the ritual of waiting. And yet, when the protagonist offers to start fishing with him, it’s a quiet, yet powerful moment of connection. It’s simple, but that’s what makes it so meaningful. The dialogue feels natural and unforced, and the pacing is perfect. There’s a lot left unsaid, which makes the moments where things are shared even more powerful. The story ends on a note of hope, but it’s not a grand, sweeping gesture—just the quiet promise of companionship, the idea that sometimes, all it takes is the willingness to be present for someone else. This is a touching, introspective piece that explores themes of loss, loneliness, and the unexpected ways people find solace in each other. A wonderful story that stays with you long after you’ve finished reading.
Well done
Congratulations on Top Story! I subscribed!
Congratulations on top story. Well done.
An excellent story with so many unanswered questions. I thought the narrator would offer his help in looking for the daughter... But that would probably be a beginning of a much longer, and a completely different story.
Most beautiful thing I have read today!
This was beautifully told — the quiet, understated moments between them really drew me in. I love how you slowly revealed Lewis’s story and the pain he carried all those years. The ending felt so warm too, like a reminder of the friendships that find us when we least expect them. Thank you for sharing this moving story! Congratulations on your deserved top story✨
A well told story, building up with unanswered questions until the answer is revealed. Congratulations
Congratulations on receiving Top Story for this wonderful story!!
What a heartwarming story!
What a lovely story! Enjoyed seeing compassion turn to friendship. Well done, Kenneth!