The fisherman who went off alone

I am like that fisherman who couldn’t agree with the other fishermen, and so went off alone into the sea, in search of more amicable lands. You see, they keep talking about this monster beneath the waters, and whenever they go out to fish, they would always observe the tides, seeing if it moved violently or unnaturally; and if it did, then the fishermen would not go out, because they believed that the monster was awake and ready to seize their little boats. At first, I didn’t mind this too much. After all, they weren’t bad people; just unique ones. But the talk of the monster began growing within the circles, and it became more and more a part of their lives. That was when I felt it to be disquieting. Sometimes, one of them would turn to me and ask my opinion of the monster, and I’d just nod my head. I didn’t say anything, because I knew that if I did, something nasty would’ve come out, something like an eager chastising. And could I believe that there really was a monster out there? I often wonder to myself if the others have never considered that their coevals died out in the sea because the waves were too harsh and the sea inadvertently swallowed them. Is that not the more plausible proposition? But let me not get into that frustrating mood. I am happier now not having to think about those things.


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