Grandpa Fish

We knew him as Grandpa Fish. 

An elderly gentleman, he lived a few doors down from us. His skin was papery thin and his eyes were blue and smokey with age. Baggy jeans clung to what was left of his hips, and he wore a crisp white shirt. His long spindly limbs were usually draped across a plastic chair that sat in the sunshine. Often, it was difficult to tell whether he was awake or asleep, as he dozed away the days. I can’t explain why he made me feel uneasy, it was just something that I felt from the moment I met him.

Moving as if he were in slow motion, he watered his jungle of a garden, every morning, at 6:45. His house was strangled by luscious pink flowers that hung from thick vines; they spread from the very peak of his roof and tumbled forwards, swallowing up the pavement in front of his house. It was impossible to decide if his home was beautiful or simply a wild mess. One thing was for sure, nature was definitely in charge.

One such morning, Grandpa Fish (as we later named him). Called over to us with his croaky, thin voice, “I so much enjoy seeing your children play in the street. Please invite them to feed my fish.” Grateful for this offer of kindness, my husband thanked him and promised to bring them round that afternoon. Something told me that this was going to be a mistake, but I held my tongue. I knew if I told my husband what I was thinking he would have thought I was crazy. ‘Maybe I am,” I thought to myself. 

Over the next few weeks, my children visited the golden Koi almost every morning. We would enter the wrought iron gate and make our way through the vibrant, tropical jungle of a garden. We smacked at the mosquitos on our legs and the children put their hands over their ears because the sounds of the cicadas were so loud. As we entered the garden, there was a concrete path that meandered through hundreds of potted plants. It wrapped itself around the house and led to a stone bridge that leapt over the dark, green pond below. If you looked over the bridge, you could see the big fishy lips, pounding the surface of the water, waiting for their mealtime. 

Over time, I began to think little of my initial instincts. I grew fond of taking the children to visit the old man, and they adored his wild garden. Although he never spoke much, I could tell that he enjoyed our company and found joy in my children’s squeals and excitement. Perhaps, he never meant for me to find out his secret. Perhaps, he really did just want a neighborly visit, and maybe, just maybe I showed up at the wrong time. 

In June, the rains came. We still made our daily visit under umbrellas, and the children enjoyed jumping in the little puddles that had formed along the concrete path. One particularly wet morning, I decided to stay home with the children. The rains thrashed around the house crashing so loudly onto the roof that we could barely hear each other’s voices. Hot chocolates in hand, we watched as rivers of water ran down the street. We held each other tighter as thunder bolts cracked the sky open.

As I looked out the window, I noticed Grandpa Fish was standing outside his house. Concerned he was out in such terrible weather, I pressed my face against the cold glass and watched as the old man swayed like a thin branch in the wind. Just as I was about to go and help him back into his house, he looked up at the sky and began waving his head violently into the rain. Horror and fear crept into my throat as his eyes began to glow a soulless, neon blue. My eyes widened and I felt my heart pounding the blood through my body. Backing away from the window, I turned around quickly to check on my children. When I looked back, the old man was gone.

 I gushed to my husband when he returned home, “That old man… In the rain… He has frightening eyes. I’m so scared! Something isn’t right with that pond,”

He brushed off my concerns, “ Stop being so ridiculous! Grandpa fish has been around these streets since I was a kid. He’s just an old man.” 

“I know what I saw!” 

“Glowing eyes? Honestly, I think you need to get some new glasses.”

“Look, if you don’t believe me, that’s fine, but I’m not taking the kids there again.”

“Oh yes you are! He really enjoys the kids. You’re really going to take that away from the lovely old man just because you thought you saw something from far away in a torrential rainstorm. Listen to yourself!”

“FINE!” I said, but I still felt it; I felt it in my gut. Something strange was happening at that old house, and I didnt want to ever go back. 

With lots of careful planning, I managed to avoid Grandpa Fish for the next few days. However, his house was on our route to the local park, and eventually I had to face the inevitable. He was sitting on his plastic chair, in his front garden, with his eyes closed. I ushered the children past, whispering to them, “Let’s race to the park!” But my little boy shouted, “Good Morning Grandpa Fish!” I sighed in silent defeat and forced my lips into a smile. My hands and feet went cold, and my heart was beating so fast that I could hear it in my ears. 

Again, we went along the meandering path. Sweat trickled down my back, and I swatted away the flies from my legs. Every part of me was looking for a way out, but my children chatted merrily as they made their way to the pond. My son pointed to a button on the edge of the bridge and asked, “Grandpa Fish, what is this button for?” But, before the old man could answer he had pushed the button with his little pudgy finger. Suddenly, we heard a scream, a scream that sent shockwaves through my body, and we all screamed. The children lept up my body like wild monkeys and I ran to the gate. But, when we got to the gate, Grandpa Fish was standing in front of the exit. 

He held up his spindly arms and said in his raspy old voice, “Relax everyone, it’s just my alarm. Do you know how expensive Koi are? I have always been worried that someone will take them away, and well… nothing is more frightening than a good scream. It’s not like I could get a big dog, dogs might eat my beautiful fish.”

I took a deep breath, but I still felt the fear pounding in my throat. Suddenly, I was aware of the weight of the children on my hips, and I adjusted them as they clung desperately to my dress, begging me not to put them down again. I stammered, “I.. I understand.. but … but we have to get home.” And, I walked as fast as I could to our gate, bolted it behind us, and stood against the wall, heaving with relief. The children wiggled out of my grasp and ran into the house to play with their toys. I held back tears of relief as I followed them inside. 

When my husband got home, I told him everything. He gave me an incredulous look and said,  “Why are you so frightened of that place? For god's sake, it's just a little old man doing something lovely for our children.” I tried to explain the feeling that I had, what I had seen in the rain, the horror of the scream, but he shook his head and laughed, “You really have an overactive imagination my love.” I felt desperate, but I said nothing. Nothing, until my son told us that he had left his scooter at the pond of the old man’s house. 

I gave my husband a pleading look, but he raised his eyebrows and said, “Honey, you walked out of there really rudely today. I think you should go and get the scooter and apologize.”

“Apologize?” 

“Yes, go and get the scooter.”

“Please don’t make me do this. I’m so scared.”

“Look, stop being ridiculous. He’s an old man, and you really need to get over this.”

I didn’t feel ridiculous. I felt sure. Sure that this was a terrible idea, but I held my breath and I nodded. Frightened, I shoved on my shoes and marched across the street. I rang the bell three times, but nobody answered. Feeling the first few drops of rain on my face, I decided to enter the gate and grab the scooter. I felt the adrenaline rush through my body as I snuck under the canopy of pink flowers. That is when I started to run. Across the concrete path, over the stone bridge; I ran like an animal being shot at. I grabbed the little scooter with so much force that it spun around and thwacked me in the face. Taking a moment to rub my sore nose, I saw the murky, green pond come to life. I don’t know why I looked to see what was happening. I don’t know why I couldn’t run. 

Big fishy lips emerged from the surface of the pool. Slowly, I realized that these lips were bigger and wider than those I’d seen before, and they held a mouth full of rotting grey teeth. As I backed into the fence, the creature twisted itself out of the water like a tornado and it came at me. Half fish, half man, it’s face stopped an inch before my own. And then I saw them, those blue smokey eyes. Grandpa’s voice sounded stronger, younger, unnatural when he said, “If you scream. Everyone will think it's my alarm.”

I screamed anyway. I screamed till I thought my lungs would fall out. I screamed when the slippery scales slithered around my body, pulling me into the pond. I screamed until the thick, green water filled my lungs.