For want of a pull

Untitled Part 1

August 14th, 1959

It isn't safe to be here. He knows it.

The first time he had floated the idea of approaching humans to Bruno, on his return from a hunting expedition, the man had shaped his face into something resembling concern.

"We don't come near humans. Ever."

Alberto recalled daring to ask: "But why, Papà?", followed by Bruno pursing his lips uneasily.

"To them, we're just monsters. And this is what they do to monsters." He motioned at the freshly-caught sea breams impaled on his wooden spear. "Except their spears are made of metal and are even sharper."

His mouth opened again, but Bruno had snapped at him to drop it before any words could come out. There the matter rested: Alberto knew better than to argue with Bruno. He'd banished the idea to the deepest parts of his – what was it Bruno called it? Oh right, subconscious – where it joined his other unfulfilled desires.

He never imagined it would resurface five years later. But then he also never imagined being abandoned, or that the weight of boredom could be so crushing.

Besides, since when can he trust anything that comes out of Bruno's mouth? Alberto's been there more times than he can count. Every time Bruno stood to gain something from lying – every time – he did it.

He had probably been making sure Alberto wouldn't enjoy living on his own, once that day came.

So if Alberto chooses to reach out for the glass and gets caught red-handed, big deal. Worse-case scenario, the two fishermen seize him and give him a good smack across the face.

With that internal debate settled, he reaches for the glass. Into the water it falls. Mission accomplished – except...what was that a spanner and a deck of cards he spied on the boat?

It'd be a shame to leave them there. Without a spanner, he'll never make his beloved Vespa a reality. And the cards – well, he doesn't know what they're for, but he can totally trade them for food once he hits the road.

The spanner joins the glass without a hitch. But as his hand gropes for the cards, the edgier fisherman's eyes stray in his direction.

"What is that?!"

Uh oh.

He dives. Things go from scary to terrifying in the blink of an eye. In his rush to escape, he blunders straight into the net.

And somehow, the net is alive. The more he thrashes, the more it tangles him up.

Then, in the space of another blink, the net soars out of the water and flops on to the boat.

Somehow, he controls the shaking in his legs enough to stand up. Only to find a harpoon pointed in his direction, courtesy of the jumpier fisherman.

Now the fisherman is moving his harpoon arm backwards, just like Bruno did with his spear when hunting large fish. In his nightmares, this is where Alberto wakes up. So he can't be in any real danger. He just has to wait. Any second, his eyes will snap open, and the heavy silence of the tower will be there to welcome him.

But the harpoon flies forward, and there's only a single moment of incomprehension and despair, and then he's lying on his back. Nobody to keep him company but the anchovies in the sky and a shard of metal sticking out of his abdomen.

Sharks, how it...hurts.

Alberto has enough strength left to eke out a chuckle.

"Oh Papà. You weren't lying after all."