Adulthood and the Karp

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Adulthood and the Karp

There’s something dark about a lake before the sunrises. Mist floats across the water, ever encroaching without ever actually touching the side of your boat. The wind is there, you know it’s there, but with no trees or bushes shaking in it’s might you never quite have the evidence you need. You cough just to ensure something, or nothing, know you’re there.

I don’t actually remember why I came out here. It’s always been the ideal I come back to. When the lights, and the sounds, and the rush, and the smells all become too much. I come from a city, a distinctly uninteresting city. Being old wasn’t what I dreamed of when I looked up to my parents in awe.

“Can you imagine being able to do whatever you wanted to do” I used to think.

“No School, to go when and where I want?” I couldn’t have got it more wrong. It’s a sad day really, when one day you stop rushing towards the future and start yearning towards the past.

I sound low, I’m not. This is the effect that the quiet, and the darkness have on you. With so little stimulation, your mind wonders to ecstatic heights and crippling lows. You can’t always make sense of it.

I inhale, I feel an icy chill line my throat and mouth. I cup my hands together and exhale, and like a witch’s cauldron smoke seeps from over the top. I rub my hands together and the brief moment of warmth gives me the motivation I need to pick up my rod.

I’m by no means a rich man, but I get by. And like most who get by, I indulge from time to time. This rod was one of those indulgences.

The rod itself was made from carbon-fibre, it was light. The sleek black design was one of my own choosing, and stood 7 foot tall. The line came underneath it and cemented into a shiny silver reel, which I polished when I got bored.

This isn’t something new, there’s a series of events that come from here. I throw my line out into the lake, I sit and wait until a Magikarp bites. I reel it in, look at it and eventually decide to throw it back.

Pokémon fascinate me, I’m a Pokémon lover. Not a unique way to feel, but the thought of a frail gasping fish in waters filled with gems can’t represent anything but disappointment. You may have noticed, I’m a dreamer.

Surrounding my boat, a shoddy wooden splinter you’d struggle to lie down in, is the unknown. Beneath the black water, which could be mistaken as a black tar, lies the like of Dratini. A sleek, majestic snake. They’re said to dash through the water effortlessly, their backs could protrude the surface and the water would barely break.

Beneath the black water, which could be mistaken as tar, lies Totodile. A Pokémon that, even as a playful infant, has enough power to bite through a tree trunk. As it grows and evolves into a Feraligatr, I could imagine myself calling such a beast my partner.

I feel a pull on my rod, it bends to the trashing of the unknown beast, I stand and brace for a fight. I heave back on the rod, pointing it towards the star-lit sky. As I pull the rod back, I spin the reel quickly towards me. I feel the desperation of the catch, as it dashes away from my grasp. The water beneath the end of my rod bubbles and fizzes, the calm scene in which my imagination runs wild is replaced by a battle that even I can’t see.

I let the catches desperation dictate my actions, as the adrenaline kicks in the creature pulls me towards the edge of my boat. I allow it a moment of lee way before reminding it that I’m in charge. I heave it back towards me. It’s close to the boat now.

I grab the net next to my feet, while holding the rod in my right hand. I scoop the net into the water, and watch it break to reveal the reward of my efforts.

Beneath the black water, which could be mistaken as a black tar, lied a Magikarp. The water ran off it’s smooth skin to reveal glowing red fins, it had gold accent across its mouth, it’s whiskers and across the golden crown which the gods must’ve placed as a joke.

I sighed. This was a scene in which I was all too familiar, and even though you might think I’d become accustomed… a glimmer of hope always seemed to slip on through. I leant back on to a hard wooden seat in my hard wooden boat to inspect my soils of war.

The carp carried on thrashing, I wonder now if the catch was really as intense as I’d played it out. It gasped for air, or water, to no avail. In disappointment, I stood prepared to return its freedom. The carp thrashed harder, forced itself into the air and shove its back fins towards my face.

“What the”, before I had time to laugh at almost being slapped by a Magikarp, it happened again. And again. And again.

This Magikarp was pissed. I took a moment to think how I’d feel being ripped from my home only to be mocked and pitied. I wouldn’t say I respected this Magikarp, but in this instant, throwing it back into the waters seemed a dreadful waste.

I turned the Magikarp onto the boat floor, and while it’s willingness to fight was clear, its physicality didn’t match. It was weak, it wasn’t able to live up to the ambition it had in its heart.

I threw my poke ball into the air, and in a red burst of light my Butterfree hovered above me. “Stun spore” I asked, and a glittering golden light peppered over the boat and the surface of the water. The Magikarp quickly took it’s well deserved rest, and the spores polluted the water to look like the starry sky above.

I picked up an empty Poke ball, one I had reserved for a mythical sea snake or a giant crocodile, and threw it towards the sleeping red carp.

 

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