The Alien that Fishes

It was a hot summer day when I first spotted him—the creature by the riverbank. My friends and I had decided to spend the afternoon fishing, just like we did every summer. But that day was different. Something in the air crackled, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched.

“Come on, Derek!” my best friend Jake called, waving me over. “You’re missing the best spot!”

Reluctantly, I left my post, glancing back at the thick trees that bordered the water. The sun shimmered on the surface, casting a hypnotic glow. But I couldn't shake that sense of unease. Something was off.

We cast our lines and waited. The sound of the river flowing was soothing, but soon it was interrupted by an odd, splashing noise. It sounded almost like something struggling in the water. I looked up, but my friends were too busy bragging about their catches to notice.

Curiosity piqued, I made my way closer to the sound. As I neared the bank, I stumbled upon a clearing filled with strange, glimmering stones. They were unlike anything I’d ever seen—glowing blue and green, flickering like stars. My heart raced as I knelt to examine them, my fingers brushing against the cool surface.

Suddenly, the splashing grew louder. I turned to find a figure emerging from the water. At first, I thought it was just my imagination, but then I saw it: a small creature, no taller than my knee. It had a translucent body, shimmering like the stones, and its wide, unblinking eyes stared straight at me. 

“Derek!” I heard Jake shout. I looked back at my friends, but when I turned to face the creature again, it was gone. I shook my head, convincing myself it had to be a trick of the light or perhaps just a fish. I didn’t mention it to anyone, fearing they’d laugh.

As days passed, I found myself drawn back to the river, captivated by that strange encounter. Each time, I searched for the creature, and each time, I left disappointed. But then, one evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting eerie shadows over the water, I spotted him again. This time, he was holding something—a fish, larger than any I’d ever seen.

“Hey!” I called, my voice trembling. “What are you doing?”

The creature turned its head, and in that moment, I felt a connection—an understanding. It didn’t seem hostile; it looked curious. Slowly, I moved closer, entranced by its iridescent scales and the way the water dripped from its body.

To my surprise, it began to mimic my movements, splashing playfully in the shallow water. I laughed nervously, then, remembering my fishing rod, I decided to show it what I could do. I tossed my line into the river, hoping to impress my new friend.

The creature watched intently, its eyes glimmering in the fading light. Suddenly, I felt a tug on my line. I reeled it in excitedly, but when I pulled it from the water, it wasn’t a fish. It was an old, rusted metal canister. 

“What the—” I muttered, confused. But before I could throw it aside, the creature lunged forward, grabbing the canister with surprising strength. It stared at me, its eyes wide and pleading. 

“Fine! Keep it!” I laughed, waving my hands in surrender. But the creature didn’t release it. Instead, it turned away, splashing back into the water, its form shimmering in the twilight. 

I watched as it disappeared, feeling a strange emptiness settle over me. I thought about all the times I had come here, how I had forged this bizarre bond. Maybe I was just imagining it, but I couldn’t shake the sense that it wanted to share something with me.

Days turned into weeks, and my friends began to notice my obsession. “You’re spending too much time by that river,” Jake said one day. “You should come to the fair with us.”

But I brushed him off, feeling that unexplainable pull toward the water. That night, I returned to the riverbank, hoping to see my friend again. As I sat quietly, waiting, a chill crept through the air. The moon cast a silver glow over the water, illuminating something far below.

Suddenly, the surface broke, and my creature resurfaced, holding another shimmering canister. My heart raced as it swam closer. I could see it was different from the last—this one pulsated with a faint, otherworldly light. 

As I reached for it, the creature let go, and it floated toward me. My hands shook as I picked it up, the canister warm against my skin. I stared into the water, feeling a strange connection to the river, to the stars reflected on its surface.

Just as I began to unwrap it, a voice echoed in my mind, soft but insistent: *It is time to know.*

Startled, I dropped the canister, but the creature lunged, its gills flaring. I realized then that it wasn’t just a fish; it was a guardian, a keeper of secrets. I could feel it urging me to open the canister.

But instead, I turned to run. The forest loomed behind me, shadows dancing like specters, but I couldn’t stop. I sprinted toward home, my heart pounding in my chest. 

When I finally made it back, I collapsed on my bed, breathing heavily. The next morning, a news report on TV caught my attention: *Local boy found dead in river. Authorities say it appears to be an accident.*

I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. I stared at the screen in disbelief, and then it hit me—there had been no boy found. It was just me. 

I turned to look out my window, the sun shining brightly. But the reflection in the glass didn’t show me; it showed the creature, swimming in the river. 

And as I gazed into my own eyes, I realized something terrifying: I was no longer just Derek, the boy who fished. I was something else entirely—something from the river, caught between two worlds, with the secrets of the deep now forever bound to my soul.