Remy Gardel was a simple man, with simple routines. He woke up early every morning (before the sailors set out across the lake), brewed a pot of tea, and drank it on his veranda looking across the sparkling lakes of Bonpoi. His boathouse was at the end of a pier, which he enjoyed, as it offered a degree of isolation from the town itself. Not that he was not fond of Bonpoi, but he did very much enjoy having his own space.

After drinking tea, Remy washed himself in the lake waters. By this time, other fisherman were awaking and getting on with their days. Once he was cleaned, Remy checked his equipment, selecting his rods and his baits, before preparing his boat and setting off across the lake.

Bonpoi was one of several small fishing towns in a verdant countryside spotted with a number of large lakes, the biggest of which bordered Bonpoi. This was where Remy sailed most mornings. The waters were still today, and sailing was smooth. Remy drew a lungful of beautiful morning air. Birds squawked overhead, crossing the teal sky.

That’s the good stuff, Remy thought, smiling.

Once he was sufficiently out in the water, Remy lowered his sails and gathered his bait from the wooden bucket he had brought with him. He attached a fat worm to the hook on his fishing rod, then moved to the edge of his boat and cast it over the edge. The bait landed with a tiny splash, sending squiggly ripples along the water’s surface.

Life in Bonpoi was simple. Far enough from any notable cities, there was little traffic, and few strangers to keep eyes on. Remy had lived in Bonpoi all his life. When his older brother had died, he had inherited the boathouse, and never thought about leaving. Of course, this meant the days were fairly uniform, with little things of interest occurring.

Not that this bothered Remy much. He had his books, and he had fishing, and between those things, there was little else a man could want.

He was softly singing to himself when he felt the tug on the end of his fishing rod. “Whoa!” Remy yapped, grounding himself against the boat as it pulled at him. He leant back, keeping his eyes on the tremoring spot in the water where he had hooked something.

“Careful there.”

It pulled again.

Remy grit his teeth, the strength of the hidden fish dragging him to a squat. “Aye!” he shouted. His hands grappled at his rod so as not to lose it. “Aye! Let up now!”

How was it this powerful? Remy thought he was fairly strong. He was built good for a fisherman, with big arms and toned thighs that enabled him to steady himself even on the shakiest of boats. But even he could hardly hold onto his rod here.

Remy grunted, rooting himself in position, and attempted to reel it out. Whatever this was, he knew it was going to be big. Perhaps even valuable.

“I got you!” Remy snarled. “Come on, now.”

He growled, bearing his gums. “Arggggghhhhhh!”

With a crack, his fishing rod snapped in two and Remy was thrown to the stern of his boat. Pain shot through the middle of his back, knocking the breath right out of his lungs. His boat went with the momentum, thrown away from whatever he had been reeling in.

Gasping for air, he slowly climbed back up, and looked around, dazed. He was still holding onto the end of his fishing rod. There was little left of it but an unusable stub.

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What on earth? Remy thought.

He stayed remarkably still, feeling something moving underneath the surface of the lake. It was nothing like he had felt before, something massive. For a split second, he glimpsed a gargantuan shadow moving through the water, before sinking into the depths.

Remy’s eyes remained wide.

When he returned to his house, he was still sore in the back and shoulders, throwing what remained of his fishing rod onto his workbench and then rubbing some heat oil through his hands. Sitting on the edge of his rough bed, he began massaging the oil into his muscles, and thought about what he had seen out there. The memory of it disturbed him such that he felt that he may not return for the remainder of the day; though, he had to admit, he was intrigued. Some sort of sea monster, perhaps? he thought, fantasizing about the encounter. Surely, its strength was undeniable. Stronger, even, than myself. No fish could do that.

Finishing with the oil, he tidied up and changed into a decent set of clothes. Then, after spending a little bit of time systematically going through a stretching routine, he collected some money and went into town to search for repairs for his fishing rod.

“Remy!” called a stocky bald man as he walked through the docks. Maxime was smiling at him broadly, his crooked teeth on full display inside his capacious mouth.

“Max, you won’t believe it. I broke my fishing rod this morning attempting to reel in quite the fish from the lakes,” Remy said in a slightly-concerned tone. When Max heard this, he raised one of his thick eyebrows, and folded his meaty dark arms.

“Just a fish did that?” Max asked.

“Well, that’s what I’m wondering.” He didn’t mention seeing the shadow in the water, though he was not sure why. Perhaps it made him feel a little silly.

“You know what, it is not the first time I’ve heard of something like this,” said Max. “A few days ago, Julius came to me saying he was hit by something while sailing. I don’t know, Remy, maybe there is something out there in the lake.”

“Hmm.” Remy thought about what they would do if there was something there, something they couldn’t see. He helped Max lift pounds of clams in wagons away from the docks and to the marketplace, as they were both heading in that direction; and throughout the morning, though he distracted himself with tasks, Remy could not shake what he had seen.

By midday, he had finished purchasing the parts he required for his fishing rod, and was about to return home when Max grabbed his shoulder with his impressive hands. Remy turned towards the big man, his hairy chest exposed underneath a loose shirt.

“What is it?” Remy asked him.

“My friend, I was told to keep this a secret, but it has been eating at me all day,” said Max in a distressed tone of voice.

“You can tell me,” said Remy.

“Well, it’s Jane. She and I will be getting married next season,” Max admitted. “Remy, my friend, I would very much like you to join us for it.”

Remy smiled. “Of course, Max. That is wonderful news. I thought it only a matter of time until the two of you became husband and wife. Congratulations.”

Max laughed maniacally, grabbing Remy in his arms and squeezing him tight. “My good friend, it will be the greatest event in Bonpoi’s short history, no doubt!”

“I don’t doubt it, Max. Not at all.”

“Ah, but there is one more thing.” Max pushed Remy out of his arms, the smile not gone from his face. “Well, Remy, we have had a long history together, you know? You are a brother to me, and I was wondering if you would be my best man for the wedding?”

Something about this caught Remy off-guard. Although the men had been friends for a long time, Max was also quite a popular man. “Is it that nobody else was available?” Remy asked.

“No! What?” Max’s voice projected loud across the street, and a few people looked at them. “Remy, you are my best friend. It wasn’t even a question for me. Or are you joking?”

“No, no, no. It’s just that that’s a very large and...kind request.”

“Well, you are my friend,” Max said.

“Oh, Maxime. I would be delighted.”

If Max’s smile could get any wider, it would have fallen off his face. He gripped Remy in another tight hug. “I love you, man,” he said, kissing Remy on the top of his head. “I must go now and give my fiancée a big kiss! I will tell you more later!”

“Farewell, Max,” Remy said.

As Max walked away from their interaction, a spring in his boots, Remy felt as though the breeze had become colder. And the smile on his face, which had been, of course, most genuine before, suddenly seemed to weigh as much as the fish he had encountered this morning. Max turned around, again, waving at him, and Remy waved back.

It was not until Max was long gone, that Remy let the smile go.