Angler

In the small village of Dewport, there lives a silent man who stalks about town everyday, not making a sound. People have learned to walk the opposite way and never speak to him as he walks up and down the busy streets. People of the town gawk and stare as he passes by, for even though his mouth remains shut, there is something odd about his face. His lips jut out, as though they were puckering. His jaw is set forward, so it sticks out farther than his nose. His nose itself seems nonexistent, everyone looks, trying to find it, but no one has found it yet. His eyes are glassy, foggy, and unresponsive. Yet, the weirdest part about him is the spot. The spot, as townspeople have come to call it, is a small white dot on his forehead that shines in the night. Urban legend says that he lives by the deep lake, and children who are drawn to the light of the man go missing, never to be seen again. Because of this, the whole town has come to bring themselves and their children in by sunset.

Marie, a fanciful little girl, skips along the sidewalk bordering the lake, holding her special doll in one hand and her mother’s hand in the other. She looks down at the ground, counting the pebbles she sees, occasionally bending over to pick one up and place it gently in her pocket.

“Marie, why do you insist on bringing those filthy pebbles home?” her mother asks.

“Because they’re special!” Marie answers delightfully. “These pebbles are smooth enough for the water fairies from the lake to build their fort out of them!”

Her mother laughs as they stop in front of a store with a large sign reading “Jerry’s Joyous Toy Shoppe”. She lets go of Marie’s hand, picking up a basket in its place.

“Momma, can I stay out here to look for more pebbles by the water?” Marie asks.

“Sure, but don’t go too far. And scream if anything happens to you.” Her mother warns. “I want to be able to see you from the door. I won’t be too long, I just need to pick up your brother’s toy.”

“Yes, momma.” Marie mumbles. And so, Marie’s mother set off into the shoppe, leaving her outside. She rushes over to the water’s edge, crouched so she could see the pebbles better.

Marie hears footsteps approach, but she could care less as she compares two pebbles. Suddenly, the footsteps stop. Marie looks up, but there’s no one in front of her, just the empty dull gray of the lake. So, she turns to look behind her. There, towering over her, slightly bent to look directly into her eyes, is the silent man. Marie lets out a soft gasp. The man simply stares at her, his glassy, beady eyes never blinking. He puts a single long, spindly finger over his mouth, indicating for Marie to be quiet. Marie holds his gaze, mouth agape. She is frozen. He doesn’t move. It’s as if they are frozen in the same moment of time.

“Excuse me, I apologize for my daughter.” Marie’s gaze is broken by her mother’s voice. She looks up to her mother, who has a look of urgency on her face. The man continues his stare at Marie, not saying a word.

“Let’s head home, sweetie.” Her mother says, side-eyeing the man. Marie takes her mother’s hand. The man breaks his stare, stands straight, and continues walking along the edge of the lake. Marie stares after him, unable to stop watching him. She watches as he wades his way into the lake, disappearing under the surface. Her mother practically drags her down the street.

At home, Marie rushes to her room to give the water fairies their new pebbles. She sets her doll on the rocking chair, then sits on the floor under her window to arrange the pebbles. By the time she’s done, the sun has set. Marie stands and admires her work. She built a cave fit for at least ten fairies.

“Marie! Come get your dinner, sweetie!” her mother calls.

“Coming!” Marie calls back. She moves one pebble an inch to the left. A small light shines on it, and Marie looks around her room for the source. She finds it coming from her window.

“Marie! Now, please!” Marie hears her mother call, though it sounds distant, and as though Marie is underwater. Outside of the window, the small, white circle of light shines brighter. She cannot see what exactly is making the light, so she walks closer.

At the window, Marie still cannot quite make out where the light is coming from. So, she opens her window and sticks her head out.

The light gets smaller, as though it’s moving away from her. Frustrated, Marie climbs out of her window. Instantly, her lungs burn and she can’t breathe. She looks around, there is nothing but darkness and the small white light. She is underwater. Marie desperately tries to swim forward, up, and out of the lake, but the surface grows more and more distant the more she struggles. The white light gets bigger and bigger, she tries to scream but nothing comes out except bubbles. She is met with glassy, foggy eyes. A stare that is unblinking. The silent man stares at her, watching her every move. Marie’s eyes grow wide and glossy as she stares into the light created by the man.

The man smiles a close lipped smile. He opens his jaw, it unhinges with a revolting sound of crackling from its place. Teeth sharper than any sword reveal themselves, in rows, dripping with saliva. Popping sounds as though a million bones were breaking force their way through the icy water with every single needle-point fang that emerges from the man's pale brown gums. Teeth so sharp they could draw blood with a single prick reach forward, making more room for more to grow. As his fangs grow, his eyes roll back into his head, revealing hollow eye-sockets. The ear-splitting sound of cracking is heard as the man's skull splits in two. As the flesh of the man's ears rips, two giant green fish eyes ooze their way through, as icing in a piping bag that hasn't been cut. Blood as black and sticky as tar explodes, clouding the water surrounding the two, as the human-sized angler fish now takes full form. Thicker than the water itself, the tar-like blood sinks to the bottom of the lake and out of sight.

But Marie doesn’t see any of that. She simply stares at the light, mesmerized and unbreathing. The man continues to lower his jaw, making it a size in which any child could crawl through. The cracks in the man's head finally connect with his mouth, as though he only has a mouth for a head.

The angler rushes forward, jaw open like a net ready to catch the daily bounty.

Suddenly, Marie is nowhere.

And the angler slithers back into the murky water of the deep lake.

Marie’s mother cries as she discovers the ruined fairy fort.