a story
There once was a boy who lived by a pond. Every morning, the boy went out to his pier and peered below. He knew there was something special beneath, something unknown. He spent many hours gazing, straining to see past the murky surface. Sometimes he would lie on his belly and dip an arm in the water, but the pond was much too deep. He dreamed of diving down and finally finding that special something, but he had never learned to swim and was much too afraid. So the boy spent his days, watching and waiting.
One day, a fisherman passed by the pond. "Are there any fish here?" asked the fisherman. "I don't know," replied the boy, "Though you're welcome to try." The fisherman sat his bag, added bait to his hook, and cast into the pond. The boy stood beside him, and there they watched and waited.
Hours passed. Eventually, the boy turned to the fisherman. "Do you get tired of watching and waiting?" The fisherman smiled. "I'm not watching and waiting. I'm fishing." And with that, the pole started to shake. The fisherman pulled in the line, let out, pulled in again, until a shimmering silver fish broke through the water. "What a beautiful fish!" remarked the fisherman, “And a special pond.” The boy paused, then replied, "You can come as often as you like, if you teach me." The fisherman smiled and nodded.
Every few days, the fisherman and the boy would fish. The boy learned to read the pond - how bubbles signaled creatures below, how the fish sat sluggish on cold days and raced when the sun shone. In time, the unseen depths became slightly more known.
One morning as the two prepared their strings, the boy's weight slipped between his fingers. He peered into the passing ripples until his reflection blinked back. Suddenly, the boy remembered his search for that special something in the pond, which he had all but forgotten. "Do you know how to swim?" the boy asked. "I do," replied the fisherman, and he agreed to teach the boy.
The boy found swimming much harder than fishing. He feared going deeper than the shallow edge, of leaving the sand below and air above. The fisherman did what he could, showing him how to paddle with his arms and float on his back. But the boy wouldn't go any further. After weeks, the boy grew frustrated. "I've learned what I wanted," he claimed. "Let's go back to fishing." The fisherman said nothing, and they climbed up onto the pier.
Eventually, the sun began to set and the two started packing. The fisherman leaned on his pole, bending to inspect the tip, when suddenly - snap - it cracked, and the fisherman tumbled down, knocking his head on the pier and falling off the edge. The boy swung around and saw the fisherman sink below, heavy and unmoving. He paused, then leaped and dove into the water.
For a moment, time stood still. The boy saw fish dancing in the distance, shimmering silver and gold. The sand swirled endlessly, patterns forming and fading away, while the pond's surface above glowed crimson with the setting sun. The boy felt his breath in his chest, the thump of his heart, and the currents brush past his skin. There he floated, neither watching nor waiting, suspended amidst the pond.
A bubble floated by, and time clicked back. The boy heaved towards the fisherman, grabbed his collar, and pulled him to shore. The fisherman lurched in the open air, coughing and spitting back water.
When the fisherman had caught his breath, he turned to the boy. "You swam," he smiled weakly. "What did you see?" The boy paused, then smiled as well. "The pond."
And so the boy and fisherman continued together by the pond. The boy no longer watched and waited for the special something he sought. Instead, sometimes he would sit and fish. And other times, he leaped and swam.