Another Shore

A sudden spell of dizziness passed through me, almost throwing me to one knee on the cobbled shore at pond side as I hurled the rock. A flash, as though standing on the precipice of a storm cloud, passed before my eyes, rendering me blind in the interim. The overwhelming light turned to a blur, my vision slowly returning to me, becoming clearer.

The light of day had turned to an eerie shade despite a cloudless sky. A fine mist had formed, cooling the mid-day air. The reason for the formation of this haze unexplained.

Having regained by bearings, the world paused around me – holding its breath. The rock I had whipped to skip across the pond, perched in stillness, suspended just above the water. The ripples, spawned by the stone’s touch, now but a frozen ring wallowing in a murky pool.

I looked up to see, me, standing on the water. But there was something different about, him, like looking into a stained mirror. His eyes weren’t my own. The way he looked at me, a frigid, lifeless gaze, glaring through me as though I didn’t exist.

He was motionless and without expression, like a statue, appearing not even to be breathing. His image unreflected in the still water and without shadow in what little sunlight shone. Was I imagining this? It couldn’t have been a dream, knowing for sure that I was at the pond just a short walk from my house. I usually came here to clear my mind.

The shore upon which I was standing flooded over, quickly overtaken by water within seconds. The rock I had thrown, now gone. Momentarily losing my balance, I flung my arms to catch myself, only to realize that I hadn’t been affected by the sudden rush, quickly retaining my footing. I half-expected to be treading water, but not a drop had touched me. Beneath my feet – solid ground, at least that’s what it felt like. I too was now standing atop water.

“What is this place?” I asked, addressing my other self. Hopelessly trying to keep my nerves from rattling – desperation beginning to creep in.

My doppelganger retained his silence. He raised an arm, as though under the influence of puppet strings, pointing a crooked zombie-like finger past me. The first sign of life from him, but that only served to elevate my anxiety.

I found it hard to swallow. Hesitant at first, I turned to see what was behind me. Water had taken over the landscape, at least for what I could see – like being adrift at sea in thick fog with no land in sight.

The temperature dipped, turning the water to ice. Not dressed for the weather, I folded my arms in a futile attempt to keep warm, wearing only short sleeves and athletic pants.

The haze began to lift, unveiling a structure nearby. It too was sitting atop the ice. It was a cabin, like one that would be used for ice fishing. It had seen better days. Its construction was decaying. Most of the boards were blackened as if scorched or had been set to flame. Some of the wood had loosened from the supports, partially fallen – held up on a corner by a single nail.

As the image cleared, there was a degree of familiarity with the structure. My grandfather had taken me to such a cabin when I was a small boy. I could make out an etching of a fish above the doorway – a dead giveaway. This cabin indeed belonged to my grandfather. He carved that image.

I turned back to see that my other self was no longer there.

“Check your line son,” said a familiar voice, “see if you have a bite.”

Now shivering, my focus was back on the cabin. There, stood a figure cloaked in shadow waving his arm, motioning me toward him.

“Come before he gets away.”

The wind picked up, blowing snow all around me. However, my view of the cabin remained unimpaired.

“Come on. You’ll be warmer inside.”

A sense of confusion came over me, but I was not in a position to object to the invitation. The voice calling to me was similar to that of grandfather, but he had been gone for several years now. I fought through the blizzard, making my way to the cabin.

With my arms nearly frozen, I reached for the door which was partially propped open. It creaked loudly as I opened it the rest of the way. I shuffled inside as fast as my cold limbs would take me. The door shut on its own just as I stepped in.

A fire blazed in the centre, my body warming almost instantaneously – the heat nearly becoming too much in fact. I looked about, not seeing anybody else in here with me. Next to the fire, a water filled hole had been drilled, the auger lying next to it. There was a line in the water affixed to the end of a bent branch. It began to bend even further, waving back and forth.

“Quickly. He’s going to get away,” said grandfather’s voice, which could be heard coming from all around me.

I reached out to grab the line. I started pulling it up slowly, gradually quickening the pace.

“Hurry son.”

I was bringing up the line as fast as I could. It seemed to take forever. Finally, the fish emerged from the water, flapping about.

A flash of light overcame me again, knocking me on my rear-end. My vision hadn’t been impaired this time around though.

I found myself seated on a boulder before the pond. The weather was clear – sunny. To my surprise, I was still holding the fish. It was no longer squirming. I was back. From where, I could not say.

I glanced about my surroundings. Everything was as it should be. There wasn’t a soul in sight, but the town was visible down the path from whence I originally came.

Where did this fish come from? It didn’t come out of this pond. There had never been any since I’ve lived here. The lake which I fished with my grandfather was some ways off. The fish was a rainbow trout, the kind we used to catch.

I looked back out towards the pond. And there, on the edge of the water, was a bent branch pinched between two boulders for support, and fishing line tied to the end – cast out into the pond. That wasn’t there before. There isn’t any fish here.

The line tightened. The branch bent even further – dancing about. There was no wind.