Short Stories

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It is a beautiful day.

I left the City Church two nights ago feeling better. It felt good to talk, to finally open the can of worms that had been eating my insides for the past year. In fact it has been a long time since I actually had a meaningful conversation. Father Phillip watched me walk away, only this time I will be back. Not for religious ceremonies but just to talk. To talk to the only person who truly understands my pain.

I noticed him smile as I walked back into the lights and sounds of the Big City.

Welcome to the Big City. Everyone living here is in some kind of pain, everyone here has something to hide. A city that grew by the banks of Big River, which cuts the city into two halves; the North and South. A city that attracts those from the outskirt towns with promise of jobs, entertainment and concealment. Behind the glitter and glam of the city there is also a dark side. One that I have grew accustomed to during the past year.

As a Big City Preacher, I knew the clean side of the city. Well mannered people who patroned the church that I ministered to. We served the destitute out of duty and not so much out of compassion. It was something that we could leverage on when meeting the other leaders of the Church. A show of our piety, our moral sense of duty and it made up the brownie points with the Head of the Church.

I have different views now.

I see the homeless in the alleys, human garbage to some but to me they are my friends. My family even. In them I have found people who understood pain but yet lived life to the fullest. In them I saw hope, brotherhood and care. The homeless look after their own. The homeless were a hidden nation, living in the shadows of the glitter and glam.

"I'm not poor. I may have no money but I'm not poor. I have life and I intend to live it."

Coming from Old Henry; who sleeps in a cardboard box behind the cinema, that statement is truth in your face. Nothing fake about it. Sometimes you find truth in the most unlikely of people. Those that see it through untainted windows. Whose lives mirror the very statements that they utter. Living at the fringe of society, these are the ones who have the most wisdom. It is the fools who will counsel the wise. Good Old Henry had wisdom for any situation. He may look poor but he was more richer then what I can ever be. Richer and happier.

I had made my peace with God but moving on would be hard and long. I have demons to deal with, skeletons that refuse to leave the closet that they have called home.

It is said that you should not leave your heart empty for too long or else the evil that you cast out will return with seven of his friends. Finding the heart empty and clean they simply move in. Think of it as a bunch of junky party crashers; there to ruin your afternoon tea-party. Only these guys play for keeps.

"Phillip, I really don't mind being alone but I cannot stand being lonely."

That night, I told Phillip what life was to me. Behind my stone facade, I was hurting and it was cutting me deeper by the day.

Yes, I cannot stand the loneliness. It creeps up to me like a grand old octopus from the deep. Whose tentacles seek to clasp around me, crushing the life from me. It is a monster that I will have to put to death if I am to gain my life back. It is a monster that I have to escape.

Working at the docks hauling fish was my way of escape. Work kept my mind focus and occupied. Occupied from thinking too much about the Accident, an accident that I hold the Heavens responsible.

I have since made my peace.

Nuts, this load is heavy.

My thoughts are cut short by the weight of fish.

"Ryan, move that load. We don't have all day. That fish needs to go to market."

"Sorry Skipper."

I move as fast as my lumber legs can take me. I don't want Skipper Jim to start throwing fish heads at me for being slow. We've been out all night and the catch had been good. A catch that would help support the four of us who man the Sea Parrot. A grand old lady of the ocean at least three decades pass her shipping years but still able to stay afloat for her rag-tag bunch of fishermen.

Skipper Jim captained the Sea Parrot, while Tony, Ming and yours truly did whatever the old hat commanded. I suspected that Skipper Jim was an escaped convict from China. He sure looked the part. Some even say he was an Ah Long or moneylender; forced to hide because he could not pay off his debts but that's a story for another day.

I probably shifted twenty crates of fish that day, I wasn't really counting but I think it was twenty.

"Good job today boys. The fish were really biting."

He chuckled at what he said.

We nodded in appreciation of Skipper Jim's compliment. Skipper Jim was a mountain of a man with a face battled scarred from his many years at sea. A hard man but behind all that toughness lies a soul that commanded respect and admiration. He was good to his crew, fair and willing to hear you out though at the end of it he was always right.

I met him early in the year. He first caught sight of me at Lim's Kopitiam. The night before I had drowned myself in drink. A vain attempt to forget what I had done that day. It was the day that I turned my back on the Ministry, the day I walked away from Father Phillip. The day I swore never to pray again, never to mention His name, never to care. They told me that I was about to be thrown out into the street by the owner, Lim. Who was really not amused that one of his patron would create a scene and a mess so early in the morning.

Skipper Jim stopped him and offered to take me in, to sober me up he said. Taking me home, Skipper Jim flushed out the drunk in me. He downed a pot-load of coffee and slapped me silly. I was not impressed with his methods, probably a throw back to his days as a Big City gangster or was it pirate?

"You're just a slimy old chinaman pirate bent on taking everything from me"

Skipper Jim did not move an inch.

"You're just like that Other Guy who took everything from me"

Skipper Jim did not move an inch.

"You smell like a fisherman and I bet a bad one too."

I moved a foot into the air.

"What's your problem? Women, work, money, family? You look worse off then Old Henry."

I stared down at him. He had me by the collar, dangling in the air like a rag doll. Personal note to myself; never ever cross hairs with a fisherman who is at least six feet tall and has tatoos up his arm. For a moment I entertained the idea that the police will find my body floating in the harbour; fed to the fishes they say.

"What's your name?"

"Ryan..er...Ryan Asher."

My feet touch earth.

"My name's Jim but people around here call me Skipper Jim and yes, I'm a fisherman. A good one too."

I sat myself down at his kitchen table. Skipper Jim place a cup of coffee by my side without taking his eye from me. I felt like a guinea pig in a cage being watched over by a mad-scientist.

"You have something against fishermen?"

"No...I used to be one. You could say I was a fisher of men."

Sitting himself down, you could hear the chair moan in agony as he put his full weight down. All this and still keeping his eye on me.

"So you're a Preacher."

I looked down at me coffee cup.

"A Big City Preacher."

I took my eye off my coffee cup.

"So, Ryan why are you in the dumps?"

Skipper Jim did not minch his words. I was also feeling very un-comfortable. Here was a man I barely knew, probing me in areas that I was avoiding. Why does it matter to him what happened to me? What benefit will he get for knowing what happened to me? Don't tell me he is a preacher too?

"So you're not going to tell me. That's ok with me."

Resting his arm on the table he continued.

"Look, sometimes you just have to move on. If you stay put too long you'll rot. When you start rotting, it'll be harder for you to fix the problem. It's like fish, it looses it's value by staying in one place. You have to move it to market or else no one will want it. It has to start moving by the time it gets to harbour. Along the way, you'll figure out its value. Along the way you'll discover what that fish means to those who want to eat it. Whatever it is you'll find it along the way but you'll learn nothing by sitting down. You'll just rot."

His words made sense.

"So move on. No point sulking yourself to death. It ain't helping anybody. You'll just make a nuisance of yourself."

Now he was being sarcastic. Who was this man to preach to me? How could he ever understand what I had gone through? How was he to really comprehend the lost that I suffered. I had just walked away from the Ministry. One that had been my life for twenty odd years. One that was far more important then anything he had ever done.

What am I thinking? I walked away from it all, I was the loser.

"Need a job?"

"Huh?"

"I need an extra pair of hands to man my fishing boat. You look able enough to work a boat. Fisher of men huh? How about trying your hand at fish? What do you say?"

This person, who a moment ago was passing out fish wisdom, was now offering me a job? It gets stranger by the minute. The question hung there for a while. I could not commit an answer. There were too many things to consider. What am I getting into? Is this guy for real? Will I fit in? Me, a fisherman?

"Mister, I don't have all day. You either take it or join Old Henry behind the cinema collecting bottles."

"Ok, I'll give it a try."

"Good, now move. We go out to sea in four hours time."

So I ended up on the Sea Parrot. It was a huge leap from Preacher to Fishermen but were not most of the Disciples fishermen before they became Preachers?

"Ryan, move it."

Tony's squeaky voice broke my flashback. My shipmates were already making their way out the door.

"I swear, we'll leave you behind one of these days. You daydream too much."

Ming said as he shook his head. Tony agreed. I could see Skipper Jim heave a sigh. I made my way after them. Don't want to be left behind.

I have to keep moving on.

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