Once there was a fisherman who lived in a run-down apartment near the shore. He spent his time fishing and selling his catches, though they were always small. One day, as he was fishing, he caught a strange fish, the likes of which he had never seen. It was small and golden in the sunlight.
“Oh, please let me go,” said the fish. “I am not a fish, but a transformed prince, and I must go back into the sea.”
“I don’t know what I’d do with a talking fish anyway,” said the man, and released the fish.
That night, he recounted the strange experience to his daughter.
“Well,” she said, “if it really was a magical prince, surely it could have granted you a wish. You should have asked for somewhere better to live.”
***
Feeling guilty that he’d not thought of that himself, he went down to the docks early the next morning.
“Oh fish!” he called. “My family is suffering, and I believe you owe me a favor.”
The fish swam up next to the pier, bobbing in the tide. “What is your request?”
“I would like a nicer place to live, somewhere clean and not broken.”
“Consider it done.”
Sure enough, when he returned that evening, his daughter was sitting in the living room of a small house. There was a garden in the front, full of lettuce and carrots and beans. Inside, they each had their own bedroom, and not a single faucet leaked.
“Thank you,” said his daughter. “I am glad to see the fish was not lying.”
“As am I.”
“Perhaps, though, the fish can do another thing.”
“No,” he said. “This is plenty for us. We shouldn’t be greedy.”
“But wouldn’t you like a second floor? And a dog? I know you’ve always wanted one.”
***
The man couldn’t deny that. The next morning, as he set out his crab traps, the fish came to surface again.
“Is the house to your satisfaction?” it asked.
“It’s a very lovely house. But, you see, we’ve always wanted a dog, and I’m afraid it’s still too small to have one. If we had a second floor, we could have a dog.”
“Consider it done.”
When the man got home, he was greeted by a large black dog, wagging and begging for pets. His daughter laughed and hugged the dog.
“Do you think, Dad, that the fish has more tricks up his sleeve?”
“Even if it does, we shouldn’t ask for more.”
“If he can make a dog appear, though, he must be able to make me a boy.”
“I will not ask the fish for anything more.”
***
The man saw the fish again, but did not ask anything of it, and only threw it a scrap of his bait. When he returned home, everything was just the same as it’d been before. His daughter was sitting on the sofa with the dog, a book propped open in her lap.
“Dad, you didn’t ask the fish.”
“I told you, we’re not going to bother the fish anymore.”
“If I can’t ask the fish, then I can at least ask you. “ She closed the book. “Please, I just want to be a boy.”
“But you are not,” said the man, and he went and cooked them dinner.
As the weeks went on, she asked more and more. Every time he returned home, she stared at him in disappointment. Every time she asked, he refused. He remembered sitting in a doctor’s office and being told, it’s a girl! and he simply did not see how that could not be true.
***
The fish continued to pop up around the docks, seemingly nodding at the man. It didn’t speak to him again, or if it did, he didn’t hear over the crashing of the waves. One night, long after the other fishermen had gone, he stayed, hauling up shrimp traps and throwing back the occasional rockfish.
Once again, the golden fish appeared.
“Old man,” he called, “do you have any other requests of me? I am forever in your debt, and surely by now, you’ve found some flaw in the house and dog.”
“No,” the man said. “I do not.”
“Not you? Or your child? Not even a bone for the dog?”
“No, thank you.”
“Very well.”
It was nearly midnight when he made his way home, under a cloudy and starless sky. In the dark, he did not recognize the building. He’d gotten so used to the house that seeing once again the broken-down apartment did not register.
His key still worked though, and the apartment was exactly how he remembered it. The kitchen was small and one of the burners didn’t work. The bathroom sink always leaked, and the pull-out couch where he slept was creaky as ever.
The only difference was his daughter’s room. She was not there, and neither was the dog. The bed was made, only her baby blanket missing. A stack of books sat in the corner.
The man raced back to the docks.
“What did you do to my house?” he demanded of the sea.
“What house?” the fish answered. “The house your son wished for? The house in which you refused him his life? The house that I gave, not to you, but your son? It is still his house. But it was never yours.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your son spoke to me. He told me of the wishes he’d asked for. I gave you a chance, tonight, to be honest. To care for him. And you did not. If you cannot make one selfless wish, you do not receive any wish. It is your son’s choice whether or not he finds you. I’ve made sure you won’t be able to find him.”
***
True to the fish’s word, the man never saw his daughter again. It was as if she had disappeared, or, more accurately, never even existed. Across the bay, there was a small, two-story house. Inside it lived a young man, a daughter who was once someone else’s son, and the dog.
Many years later, when visiting an old friend, the fisherman thought he saw his daughter. He recognized the dog on the leash, but not the man holding it, laughing with a friend. He wondered, then, if the fish was right. If it really was true that he had a son. Or, maybe, he just missed the dog.
Khalila Soubeih (they/he) is a creative writing student at Western Washington University. He writes about queer magic, often set in their home of the Pacific Northwest. In their free time, they can be found exploring tide pools and on Instagram as @starful.khalila.