Novel & Cerita The Legendary Fisherman

"There is only one way now. The wish fish." The wish fish, a creature from legends. Legend says that there lies an island in The Great Black Sea. On that island, there is a pond in which this creature lives. It has the power to fulfill one wish. However small or big the wish is, it can be fulfilled. Many sailors, pirates, kings and people tried to reach that island but never returned. Nobody knows what lies in that sea and why they all did not return. There are only speculations and stories. Subham's father grabbed the doctor by his collar and shook him angrily. "Are you fooling with me?" He shouted, his face red with anger and irritation.

he said. “Who?” Maria said. He shrugged. “The mean guy who lives on the hill. The one with trucks. The one who thinks silence is a best fence. If you know his name, keep it to yourself.” “Gianni,” I said. He spat into the water. “If you want to live, you say it once and you say it quiet.” “What do the ribbons mean?” Andrew asked. “How do I know. Mercy, I heard,” the fisherman said. “Once in a while he sees the island as a birthplace and not a business.”

Hercules confessed. They all saw the zeal he took towards regaining his pack and were as well wishing to support his strive. "If that's the case then we can get the details later, for now, we need to focus on how to cross the Trench." Eugenia added as she seemed certain that they could triumph this trailer of a challenge. "The fisherman is famous for his asking of varying requests. He could request that a coin be tossed into the water or he could ask that one of us be tossed into the water. We can't predict?" Vlad added as he casted a hopeless situation in their wake.

Not his. One by one, the men leapt onto the dock, soaked to the bone, dragging their hauls behind them—plastic bins full of fish, a few with tangled nets, others just grateful to be back on dry land. “Carmenta?” It was Eljo, one of the younger fishermen who used to shadow Romero like a pup back in the day. His face was pale from the salt and cold. He wiped his forehead and smiled nervously. “You looking for Romero?”

Chapter 2 “PRINCESS Maria Isabelle De Lata, wake up there. I still have an appointment. I have many more souls to fetch today.” A baritone voice shouted right on my left ear. I immediately woke up, catching up my breath. Who the hell mentioned my full name? It’s really cringey on my end hearing that name of mine. I’m a lesbian and yet my name is so girly in nature. It always made me shiver upon hearing someone calling me that way. And I don't even know about my ancestors and why they chose “De Lata” as our last name. Maybe... my bloodline were fond of eating canned foods long ago. (De Lata is a Filipino slang term for canned foods)

Today was not a typical day. For much of the day, no one caught any fish from the silent river. During the night, the water’s surface rippled in the moonlight. One fisherman, a stubborn man who had decided he wouldn’t go home without a catch, stood by the riverside. In the soft, silver moonlight, he saw the irregular pattern glinting from the water’s surface and frowned. “That’s not—” the fisherman began, but stopped short. He lifted his brown cap to scratch the dry scalp underneath.

Her professor is pissed off, yet she can’t force herself to write anything. Her pen twirls around as she plays with it. It took five minutes of playing before her professor came in and handed bunch of booklets to one student asking him to distribute it to the entire class. A red covered book laid flat on her desk. “Unpopular legends.” She read it softly. She flipped the pages of the book and thought there must be about a hundred pages. She turned to the first page and saw the table of contents. “Welcome, today we will be talking about some of the most underrated legends of all time. For the entire month, we will be talking about each of these individuals to help ignite our inspiration. Clear

The word that pops up in my head is: {Anglerfish}. This last thought, combined with the mounting feeling of vertigo ever since my eardrums shattered, proves too much for me. I spring up and vomit into the river. “Now, now, you wouldn’t want to rock the boat too hard,” the ferryman, an old man in a brown hooded robe, warns in the voice of a man half his age and thrice his size. “Those aren’t fish you’re feeding, miss.”