Hook                                                         Edited 2026

As I do every night, I took just a sip of water before going to bed. If I drink more, I wake up in the middle of the night for a trip to the bathroom, and the tormenting insomnia that follows is inevitable. I’ve learned through experience that water at night epitomizes shattered dream and painful awakenings.

Then I tucked myself in, and just before closing my eyes, I glanced at the image of myself—victoriously parading my prized catch, dangling from the fishing line wrapped around my wrist, framed above my bed.

That day, I skillfully kept my bait just below the surface and held the pole upright, making sure the fish wouldn’t sense its presence. I gently wobbled the pole to bring the bait to life, to lure the fish. From time to time, I felt a light nibbling, but I didn’t react. I knew better—I wasn’t after the small ones. Patience is the key to success, and sure enough, it paid off handsomely again.

Within minutes, an enormous fish—nearly as large as its predator—opened its mouth wide to seize its prey. With one swift, perfectly timed tug, I had him hooked.

Every second of that ecstasy is vividly engraved in my mind and has stayed with me throughout the years, the snapshot of that moment immortalized on my bedroom wall. I even secured the original hook, still tied to the same fishing line, dangling over the image of the fish’s mouth—an artistic superimposition that gave my trophy a bitter sense of reality. The idea was genius. The hook in the lifeless creature’s mouth sparkled in the darkness of my room for years.

Since then, his opaque black eyes have pierced through me, as painfully as the solid bronze hook pierced his blood-crusted mouth.

That night, I went to sleep, and despite all my precautions, I woke in the middle of the night. As I barely opened my eyes to check the time, I saw the glowing “3:00 a.m.” on the digital clock, flickering in the dark. Then I realized I was floating.

Water was rising around me. My bed was afloat, along with everything else in the room. The entire house was flooded. I had experienced many bizarre nightmares before, but this one was different because it was not one.

Every piece of furniture was either submerged or drifting. I managed to open the window, only to see that the entire neighborhood shared the same fate. I swam outside and found a raging river where the street had been just yesterday.

People, pets, and furniture drifted together. An eerie tranquility hovered over the catastrophe. Everyone was calm. Most people were still asleep in their beds, carried by the current. I saw a man and a woman making love, babies sleeping peacefully in their cradles, dogs snoring—all afloat on the waves. The water was sweeping everyone away, yet no one resisted.

I could have returned to sleep and drifted with the current, but instead I chose to stay and embrace this new existence.

It took time, but I adapted. Gradually, I transformed into an aquatic creature. The only thing the water took from me was my memory.

In time, scales formed on my skin, and multiple fins emerged. I developed a new respiratory system that allowed me to remain submerged indefinitely. A tail grew to propel me through the water, and my vision adapted to the darkness, enabling me to navigate my surroundings with precision.

I fed on bugs, worms, flies, and gnats, and now and then a fish or two when I came across one. Now I roamed freely in this new world, though I was not immune to pain. I scarred myself at times trying to navigate the decaying remains of my former home, yet I always managed to survive.

One day, driven by hunger, I noticed the shadow of a fish thrashing in the water inside what used to be my bedroom. Instinctively, I lunged toward it, surged upward, opened my mouth wide, and swallowed it in one swift motion.

Suddenly, a crushing pain exploded through my jaw.

A sharp piece of metal tore into my flesh. The more I struggled, the deeper the barbed hook dug into my mouth. Its razor edges ripped into me with every movement. Eventually, I stopped resisting, realizing how firmly it was lodged.

***

From that day on, my body flaps beneath the water while my head remains trapped above the surface, my mouth forced open. I survive on whatever insects and flies happen to fall into it.

Every night before I sleep, I see him—the man—his face filled with triumph, holding me by the fishing line wrapped around his wrist, parading his prized catch.

Since then, his opaque black eyes have pierced through me, as painfully as the solid bronze hook pierced his blood-crusted mouth.