Chapter 1: Not Even A Nibble

He was beginning to think all of the fish were dead. However, Derek wasn't ready to admit that to himself, let alone to the sandy-haired harpy he called his best friend, who was currently breathing down his neck. Derek would've sworn he could feel the hot plumes of her condensed breath compressed behind her pursed lips and steaming out of her nostrils in frustration. Derek didn't dare turn and face her. If he turned around and looked at her, one of two things would happen. One: Derek would be forced to acknowledge that ice fishing on this particular dock of Golden Lake might not be the best use of his time and that his time would be better served elsewhere, probably something his mom needed him for, and sent a minion to fetch him. Two: Harmony would actively lose her temper at him for wasting his own time. Her subsequent attempt to throttle him would disturb his fishing pole and effectively ruin any chance he had at catching something. Derek didn't know why his long-time friend felt how he spent his time was any of her business, but lately, it had become a personal crusade of hers. 

Fishing is a perfectly reasonable hobby, Derek thought to himself, even if the local population of fish has frozen to death or somehow migrated elsewhere. Do fish migrate?

"Derek?" Harmony asked, her tone making his name sound like an insult saved for society's most deplorable reprobates. 

"I heard you the first time," Derek replied. The first time was when Harmony shouted his name from the end of the dock.

"Why didn't you answer?" she asked.

Derek imagined she had put her hands on her hips at this point. "I prefer my conversations to be of the non-shouting variety," he said, "Besides, the shouting might disturb the fish." 

"You really think you're going to catch anything out here?" Harmony asked incredulity, saturating every syllable. 

Derek took in the frozen tundra that was once Golden Lake and thought his chances of catching anything were low. "It doesn't matter what I think," he said. 

"What is that supposed to mean?" 

Derek shook his head and sighed. He briefly enjoyed his own cloud of heated breath before continuing, "Sometimes, the value is in the journey, not the destination." He wasn't sure he believed this particular line, especially if the journey might end with him getting frostbite, but the most important thing was that his response was sure to drive his friend into a fury. This was something Derek was exceedingly good at. 

Harmony Walker was a pragmatist. If she did something, she wanted tangible, measurable results. To imply there was an intrinsic benefit to freezing his butt off outside without the final goal of landing a fish was enough to get more than one of her neural pathways to misfire. 

"You do realize. That doesn't make any sense," Harmony replied.

Instead of offering a rebuttal, thus turning his esoteric statement into a debate that Harmony would surely win, Derek shrugged his shoulders in response.

Derek let the silence between them thicken. He didn't have anywhere to be. Well, besides, wherever Harmony wanted him to go. The silence didn't last long. Derek expected an angry lecture to follow that ended with Harmony stomping off the old wooden dock in a huff. Despite their friendship of over a decade, Harmony still managed to surprise him regularly. It was part of why he valued her place in his life, even though they constantly rubbed each other the wrong way.

Her next question was calm and measured, like she had given it more thought than her normal knee-jerk responses to Derek's attempts to irritate her. "Do you think this will help you win this year?"

Instead of trying to irritate her, Derek turned and matched her with a genuine response.

"I don't know… But it couldn't hurt, right?"

Harmony looked at his hands, which had frozen in a rictus around his fishing pole, and laughed, "It just might, but I can see you're set on this. Anything's worth a shot if it means it might wipe that arrogant leer off of Rod's face for a year." 

"I'm not sure anything short of heavy plastic surgery could do that. It's like our moms used to say, 'If you keep making that face, it'll get stuck that way.' I mean, have you ever seen him not making that face?" Derek asked.

Harmony started to laugh. Her laugh did what it did best, making Derek laugh along with her. His body rocked up and down. The shivers and laughter combined to form the most awkward laugh the world had ever seen. Harmony laughed even harder, to the point that tears glistened on her cheeks. The sparkle didn't look out of place in the glittering winter wonderland that was the town of Golden Lake. Creatively named for the frozen stretch of water, Derek was unsuccessfully trying to divest its fish. Derek preferred the name in the summer. On any given sunrise or sunset, the sun would peak through the trees just right and paint the entire lake in hues of gold and amber. Tourists thought the name was corny, but they treated all beauty like it was something to be purchased. 

"I guess I better tell your mom she is going to have to fetch you herself if she plans to get any work out of you today," Harmony said, wiping the tears from her cheek. The mirth still lingered in her voice.

Derek turned back to his fishing pole, hoping the merriment hadn't startled the fish too severely, "If you could tell her I ran away from home to join a traveling circus, I would forever be in your debt."

"Don't push your luck," Harmony chuckled, "I'll leave you to your fruitless training, but if you want me to lie to Lisa Dunn, you've got another thing coming."

"Thanks, Harm," Derek replied, using his nickname for her that she pretended to hate.

"It's not too late for me to push you into the lake." 

"Actually, I think it might be," Derek said, gesturing to the frozen-over lake. 

"Don't you underestimate me, Derek Dunn," Harmony replied, but the sound of creaking planks announced her departure, “Oh, and Derek? Don’t stay out after dark.”

Derek sent a casual wave over his shoulder, a goodbye, and a dismissal. He knew why she was worrying about after dark. Everyone knew about the amber lights that supposedly appeared beneath the surface of the lake at night. Everyone also knew about the supposed tourists who disappeared every year, but only after dark. It could all be explained by alcohol and idiocy. Derek had never seen the lights himself, but the rest was easy enough to explain.

Enough of that.

Derek’s mind started shifting gears towards the emptiness of mind needed by all great fishermen. Derek began to peel layers of care and worry from his mind like an onion. His field of vision narrowed to contain only his pole, his line, and the irregular hole he'd cut into the ice that morning. His muscles relaxed so they might perceive even the slightest tug on the line. Time seemed to pass by him in a blur that was both blisteringly fast but excruciatingly slow. The cold, discomfort, and hunger Derek had been feeling earlier he expelled from his body, reducing them to buzzing gnats that could do nothing to shake his focus or deter him from his ultimate goal. Even if his or Harmony's doubts proved correct, Derek would still gain something from the experience. He wasn't sure what that something was, but he had come to know a person could attribute great significance to any suffering after the fact.

Derek couldn’t have told anyone how much time had passed since Harmony had left, but the pall that had covered the morning was replaced with the sun shining brilliantly in the sky. They were still in the part of winter where warmth could only be remembered as some distant memory, but the sun's embrace was still a welcome change. Its rays always seemed to instill an invigorating effect in Derek, not unlike a plant converting light to energy. It was a sign for him to get up and stretch out his body.

The perfect stillness he could achieve with fishing came at a cost, and his muscles started protesting that cost. They burned as Derek stood from his perch on the end of the dock. He didn't mind the pain. On a day without a nibble, the pain made him feel like he had accomplished something despite all evidence to the contrary. As he stretched, he took in the sight of Golden Lake at its most beautiful—empty.

An unbroken blanket of snow covered the vast expanse of the lake that gave the town its namesake. Pine trees shrouded in blankets of white ringed the lake to either side. Mount Grange loomed on the opposite side of the lake. Further than his eyes could see, Derek knew the Nines River and its tributaries wound their way down Mount Grange and fed into Golden Lake. Mount Grange's ever-present vigil over the town made the other side of the lake feel closer than it was in reality. Derek could walk all day along the edge of the lake and still not reach the other side. He knew that from experience. It would take the most determined person about twenty minutes to get to Golden Lake by car after they passed over the Grange grade. In the winter, it was easy to imagine Golden Lake existed in a pocket of land that had been forgotten by society at large. Cognitively, Derek knew the ski town, Hozier, was busiest on the other side of the Grange, but none of that spilled over into Golden Lake side of the mountain. There were too many trees. Tourists would have to wait until the summer. He knew it didn't make any sense, but Derek resented the lack of attention to his little town just as much as he resented the flood of tourists they would see come summer.

"You fishin’ or daydreamin’, boy?" a familiar voice asked, "Or just playin' with yourself?" 

Derek did turn at this voice. Seeing Rod Hockenson out of his shop in the winter was rare. Layers of winter clothing made the heavy-set man look cartoonishly large, but better yet, like he was being consumed by a neoprene beast. Derek could see Rod's beady, dark eyes and patchwork, toothy smile through a small break in the fabric. His cheeks were an unhealthy color of beet red. Rod's usual winter habitat was the rocking chair behind the counter of his bait and tackle shop that doubled as the town's junkyard, cleverly named Rod's Rods and Other Junk. Surprisingly enough, the man did a lot of business during the summer, but Derek couldn't imagine what he did during the winter besides keep the hot cocoa industry afloat. 

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

"You getting nervous Rod?" Derek called back, "I haven't seen you outside since November."

"Nervous o' what boy? Looks to me you've pulled up a fat lot o' nothin'," he chortled with a choking sound that Derek had come to learn was the man’s laugh. 

"It is the poor fisherman that measures his success by the amount of fish he’s caught in a day."

Rod choke-laughed again, but this time, it was long enough that Derek began to worry the man might be having a cardiac event. "You and yer fancy words, boy. That ain't fishin'. Fishin' is yer catch. The battle between man and beast. Yer will against the fish. The only thing yer fightin' is frostbite. Come on inside. I'll rustle you up some cocoa, and if yer lucky, I'll give you some pointers on how to do some ice fishin' proper." 

There it was.  Rod liked to play the villain, but deep down, Derek suspected the man liked seeing someone else share his passion. However, Derek had his role to play. 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, old man? These tactics are beneath you, my worthy adversary. Instead of honing your craft, you threaten to entice the competition away from their pole. NOT THIS DAY!" Derek finished with a shout. 

"Come off it, boy. I'm tryin' ta talk some sense into ya. You could dip that there pole inna water every day from now until spring and naught catch even a nibble. And you could fish for the rest of yer life, but ye'd still not e'en be nippin' at my heels. Worthy adversary, hah!" 

Derek suspected the man was correct on all counts, but that would make victory all the sweeter when Derek finally beat him. Rod had won Golden Lake's annual Fishing Jamboree every year as far back as anyone could remember, but Derek thought this year would be his year. He told the man as such. Rod swatted Derek's words out of the sky and exclaimed, "Bah, I know why yer pa' doesn't talk to ya lad. It's a waste o’ breath when you set yer mind to somethin'. When you get some sense, there's some cocoa in it for ya."

The big man shrugged, the movement shifting all the neoprene across his massive bulk. Derek winced at the sound. Images of nails on a chalkboard flashed through his mind. He turned back to his pole and listened to the sound of snow packed hard with cold crunch and slowly fade away as Rod hobbled back to wherever he came from.

Despite his best efforts, the zen Derek had achieved earlier that day eluded him. He pulled his line from the depths. It was time for a rebait and a recast to freshen up his mind and his hook. The morsel Derek had affixed sagged limply on the hook. If a nibble had been taken from the amalgamation of bait, Derek couldn't make it out. With cold fingers, Derek plucked the piece of bacon-wrapped dog food the Internet had assured him would be good if unconventional ice-fishing bait. He replaced it with another favorite from the Internet. The marshmallow dangling at the end of his hook looked cartoonish next to the lure. The lure was supposed to look like a real fish to entice all the others, but Derek was curious if he himself would fall for that particular disguise even if he only had a few brain cells. 

Proper ice-fishing didn't need a good cast of the rod. Instead, you just lowered the bait and lure into the water and hoped for the best. The more alive the bait looked while this occurred, the better. Ideally, Derek would bob it up and down, putting a little pep in its step, but he quickly tired of the exercise. One of the things he liked about fishing was the times when you could sit and let the fish come to you; no movement was necessary. There was a part of him that wished life were the same way. The right amount of patience is all that stands between a person and their dreams. 

"Good things come to those who wait."

"I think whoever said that would tell you you're taking it too far." Jake reminded him in his mind.

You're as wrong now as you were then. Derek retorted in his mind, but Jake's voice drifted on, just like its owner had.

Derek tried to focus on the line, but Rod's interruption had ruined the peace necessary for him to be successful despite his rebait. The young fisherman tried and failed to achieve the angler’s zen required of him long enough that the long shadows of pine trees started to lengthen over the lake. As the sun started to dip beneath the horizon, Derek decided it might be time to call it a day.  It definitely wasn't because all the fish were dead or he was cold and wasting his time. What had Harmony told him? That his mom was looking for him? When was that not true? She, and by extension, the store, always needed him for something or other. He supposed he could indulge a kind, older woman's whims and give her a call.

However, as Derek tried to remove his line from the water for the first time in the day, he felt resistance. A real fisherman didn't get his hopes up. Chances were the line just snagged on something. He pulled at an angle. There was no mistaking it. Something pulled back. The smaller spool Derek had explicitly acquired for ice fishing started to spin out faster than Derek could process. Derek urged his ice-numbed hands to life as they slowly began to slow the hemorrhaging of line. When the reel had only two or three turns before it was empty, the line pulled taut. Derek and his adversary stayed locked in that stalemate and would indefinitely unless he did something about it. He stood on the dock and positioned his feet behind one of the wooden supports. If Derek was going to gain any ground, he needed some stability. 

He leaned back, shifting his center of mass, and started to reclaim the line he'd lost. Derek's initial urge had been to rapidly reel in his potential catch, but Derek's frantic actions seemed to spur an equal response from his quarry. However, a slower and more methodical approach seemed not to stimulate as much resistance. Inch by inch, Derek could feel himself bring the fish to heel. In his mind's eye, the fish looked like a true monster, like one of those prehistoric fish they pulled from the deep ocean. The way it fought and the icy conditions caused his imagination to run wild. Facts told him it was probably a holdover from one of the more common denizens of the lake, but facts had no place in a fisherman's heart.

He only wished that he was pulling such a monster catch during the summer. Derek could feel this sucker was a winner. Judging by how hard it fought, it had the potential to be the biggest fish he'd ever seen. As Derek reclaimed more line, the boy scanned the lake's surface, anything to get a glimpse of even a silhouette of his catch. He didn't expect the murky casing of ice to yield any of its secrets, but Derek could've sworn he saw a massive shadow drawing ever closer to the hole he'd cut in the ice. A crazy thought flashed through his mind. Is my hole even big enough? To be safe, Derek had cut it an entire foot in diameter, but the shadow that threatened to emerge dwarfed what Derek had judged a generous hole earlier that day.

Derek debated on whether or not he should call for Rod. The man's shop was close enough that he was sure to hear Derek's shouts, but he wasn't prepared for the man to take credit for Derek's catch. He could hear the words now; the fish were too much fer ye, so ye had to call in the perfessional. 

Not on my watch! 

He would cross that bridge when he got to it. In the worst-case scenario, Derek could get it to the surface and take a picture of it, so he at least had proof of his massive catch. If it even was that massive. The sun could do weird things to shadows, and Derek was no expert on ice-fishing. This could be a common phenomenon, and the shadow would shrink as it neared the surface. Derek quickly revised that theory as he started to get a glimpse of the actual size of his catch. The outline from before was small compared to the hulking form beneath the surface at the moment. He didn't know how his bargain-quality line hadn't already snapped. Derek had no choice but to keep reeling and hope for the best. 

Although he kept expecting the line to snap at any moment, Derek's massive haul slowly but surely approached the surface. It didn't have any chance of fitting through the hole in the ice. An insane image of the shark from Jaws crashing through the ice flashed through his mind; a picture on his phone would be all the proof he needed. Derek fished around in his jacket pocket with a hand so numb it felt like it belonged to a distant relative. In the meantime, he clamped the rod between his knees and hung on for dear life. 

By the time he found his phone, the shadow in the ice hadn't given up much ground, nothing some meticulous reeling couldn't recover. Derek kept his camera app ready, daydreaming once again of his once-in-a-lifetime haul. He didn't wonder if he was dreaming too small earlier, thinking of prehistoric fish. The shadow underneath the ice was of a size that would make Rod Hockenson look petite, but it continued to grow. Derek kept pulling, but the effort felt wasted. He no longer felt the same resistance on the line. It was like his catch had given up fighting back and was swimming to the surface to meet him, getting larger and more distinct. Some ancient sense of self-preservation in his genetic code told him to run for his life, but Derek held steady. The shadow grew to the size of a soccer mom van. Derek didn't know when he'd stopped reeling, but it didn't matter anymore. He was going to see his catch whether he wanted to or not. At some point, Derek felt like he’d passed a point of no return, and all the only thing left on his mind was proof, maybe so he could share the experience with someone else. 

Derek brandished his phone like it was a weapon against the unknown and that the camera app was a buffer between him and reality. Running away wasn't an option; it never truly was. He imagined trying to tell Harmony this story and her brushing him off. So you're not going to admit you froze your butt off for nothing, so instead, you caught the biggest fish in existence. Good for you, Derek. No, Derek was going to show her, and Rod, and his father for that matter. No one would think it was a waste. How could they? 

As the creature approached the surface, Derek stopped making size comparisons. A creature the size of a small trailer caused his stomach to do backflips. He didn't know the exact moment when he'd started thinking of the shadow as a creature instead of a fish. It occurred to Derek that this situation could've easily been the plot of a horror movie, and weirdly enough, that gave him comfort: Nothing that interesting would ever happen in Golden Lake. 

As if one cue with his thoughts, the entire shadow lit up like a Christmas tree. Lines of bluish bioluminescent light outlined the shadowy figure. The shape was certainly fishlike, but there were a few inconsistencies that Derek didn't want to dwell on. A hint of a pair of what looked like a ram's horns, but not near its head or a spined-dorsal fin that wouldn't have looked out of place on a dinosaur. Derek's fishing pole fell limply out of his hands, but he still clutched onto his phone. 

My phone! Derek thought I need to take a picture. 

Derek's finger perched over the button that would immortalize the moment in a photograph, but he never got the chance. The device began to ring. A truly obnoxious ditty that could've only meant one thing. My mom. He declined the call as fast as his numb fingers would allow. He would deal with the aftermath later. The entire process seemed to take an eternity while the creature lurked beneath the ice. Inexorably getting larger and larger, seeming to defy the laws of reality in the process. How could anything be that large? 

By the time the camera was ready, the creature almost seemed too large to adequately be caught on camera. It was larger than life. His breaths came out hot and fast in rhythm with his pounding heart. Actually, not quite. In between his own breaths, every three or so, he heard a softer breath on the doc. Right behind him. He turned his head. There wasn’t anyone there. His frayed nerves were getting to him. Derek pointed his camera at what he thought had to be the creature's head, and - a flash of light flew by. It was like a firefly but too fast for that. A stinging sensation nipped at his hand. Derek's phone sailed out of his hands and fell through the hole in the ice with a plunk. The bioluminescent shadow creature disappeared into the depths as if the sound of the dropped phone spooked it. Derek dove for his phone, but it didn't matter; the beast was gone. On the bright side, his phone still floated on the surface, saved by a waterproof case. As Derek clutched his stinging hand on the edge of the deck, a call from his mom illuminated the surface of the phone.