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The Year Six Hundred & Sixty-Six,
No one could say for sure why the fisherman left
Coral Wing. On a dark night when the sea was asleep he
took his leave of the castle and walked away across the
surface of the water as if he had never heard such a feat
was impossible. His footfalls left no tracks. When he
found himself at the mouth of the river he did not tell
the guardian where he was going or whence he came,
but the Oldest Fish in the Sea let him pass irregardless
out of respect for his elders.
The river led the fisherman to a raging whirlpool.
Inconsolable in his unrelenting melancholy, he leapt
into the black hole and was sucked into oblivion.
He drowned in darkness in infinite space. He had
stepped off the moon and was plummeting through
limbo—nothing else could fall so far. Down, darker and
There is hope. There is hope…
He awoke in a secluded lagoon. He could not
remember how he had come to be there. He cast his
fishing line and sat back, staring at the water.