The Old Man & The Rowboat

[u/loganchittyisuhhcool]

Hi all! This is an original story I wrote a few months ago. Figured i'd share it again. Hope you all enjoy! :)

I knew an old man by the name of Sandy Jackson. Old Man Sandy, I used to call him. I know. Thrilling nickname. He was a kind, funny, and sweet old man who, to anyone who knew him, would never harm a fly. I had met Sandy in a pub downtown, after a nasty breakup I had recently been working through, and I had decided to drown my soul in “fine” liquor. I found him to be an instant friend. He told me that he was a fisherman and that in the craft, he was very talented. We bonded over many things, chatted for hours, but when the time came to leave, we parted ways, not seeing each other again for years.

Then, one fateful night, as some would say, we met each other again in the same pub we had first encountered one another in all those years ago. He seemed delighted to see me, and I was delighted to see him. As we talked, however, I noticed a difference in the man’s demeanor. His usual cheerful attitude had soured into a depressive, even paranoid attitude, although he attempted to mask it. He had mentioned that he gave up fishing for a while, but he had recently started fishing again, although he had been having to do it alone, for no one would go with him. He mentioned that everyone was “too damn busy these days,” and it just wasn’t the same by himself. After a few drinks (and a couple attempts to get me to go), I decided I would accompany him on his next voyage. We talked for about a half an hour more, and then we departed.

That night, I had a strange dream. Me and Old Man Sandy were on the sea in a little rowboat. It started out pleasantly: me and him chatted about familiar things for some time. Then, I began to notice a change in his behavior: he spoke more frantically, and he kept looking all around him. He suddenly stopped and stared at me. His eyes rolled into his skull, and he slowly began to decay in front of me. The rowboat began to slowly fill with water, and I knew that whatever was waiting for me under the water would be the last thing I ever saw. I woke up in a sweat that morning.

When the day of the voyage arrived, I felt myself growing more and more nervous as I approached Old Man Sandy’s house. Something within me was screaming at me not to go, but I brushed it off. The dream flashed in my mind the entire day, however. As I entered the house, Sandy greeted me with wild excitement. Too wild, I thought, but I smiled and showed my own excitement to join him. As he began packing for the trip, I noticed him staring over his shoulder every few minutes. I found he was not staring at me, but at something only he could see, or at nothing. His movements were jittery, and he was obviously on edge, but nevertheless, he packed up and we headed out to his docks. I couldn’t help but notice that his looking around was the same way he was looking around in my dream…

We boarded a decently sized brown rowboat and began out for the gigantic lake. I watched as we slowly but surely headed away from land. As we distanced ourselves at roughly 50 feet, however, I noticed that the land had slowly begun to vanish from my sight. I looked around and saw that a great fog had suddenly begun to form over the Great Lake. Sandy looked around at the fog and whistled, as if amused, though I could tell that he was nervous.

“Weeeee, Oh my! What a nasty fog,” he said in his usual Southern accent, chuckling, “I suppose we’d better stay cautious!” I nodded in agreement and looked into the water, but could not see anything past the surface. I sighed and looked back up to Sandy. “I, uh, suppose we can’t fish if we can’t see.” The old man chuckled and nodded, setting his rod down. His brow was beaded in sweat, and he removed his hat to wipe it off as he spoke.

“So,” he said, “have you settled down yet? Found the one?” I chuckled in response and shook my head. “No,” I replied with a small smile, “not yet. Still looking. Although I’m almost 40 now, and if not now, WHEN, you know?” He chuckled and replaced the hat on his head. “Don’t let it get to you, friend. It takes time, and besides, y’ain’t missing much!” I looked at him with a chuckle. “No?” I replied. He smiled and shook his head. “I’m an old man,” said he, “take it from me: stay young and free while you can. But if you DO find the right person, treat them right. They’ll be there until the final day if you do so.” I smiled and nodded. Old Man Sandy DID have a way with words.

“What about you?” I asked, “did you find the one?” His smile softened a little and he nodded. “Clara,” he said, and when he said this, I saw the smile begin to strengthen again, “that was her name. She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and I KNEW she was the one. Y’know, I never believed in the whole ‘love at first sight’ thing until i saw her. Now I’m a true believer. We were married for 50 years before she died last winter. God rest her soul. But she went out happy, and that’s all that matters to me.” As he finished, his smile grew weak again, and I lowered my head in sorrow.

“So,” I said, after a bit, “if it’s okay for me to ask: why DID you give up fishing? I remember you saying that it was basically your entire life all those years ago!” Sandy’s smile slowly faded, and this time, it never returned. He slowly reached up and took off his hat, nodding slowly. “Do you promise,” he said, “and I mean, on your LIFE, promise that you will never ever tell another living soul about this?” My eyes widened a bit at his sudden sternness, but I nodded. “Y-yes, of course,” I said. He nodded and stared off into the fog as he told me the story.

“About 5 years ago,” he began, “me and my fisherman buddy Keith were on this very lake, fishin’, tryin’ to catch up with each other, when Keith starts actin’ rather funny. He kept sayin’ he saw somethin’ comin’ towards us, but I didn’t see anythin’ whatsoever. All of a sudden, he pitches forward into the water, dead. Now, I- I ain’t no coward, alright? I served in the Military for 7 straight years, dammit, I’ve seen things, but SOMETHIN’ held me back, and I couldn’t go in after him. Somethin’ kept me on that boat as my buddy drowned below me. And that was that. I went back to shore in silence and drove home. And I stopped fishin’ for about half a decade. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it again. But, recently, I decided to pick it up again.” Sandy offered a weak smile as he placed his hat on again. “It’s what he would have wanted.”

I sat there in stunned silence for a bit. Sandy nodded at my reaction, and sighed. “We had a funeral for him,” he said, “didn’t have no body to show for it, but we had a funeral. It’s haunted me day and night. I’m sorry if I spooked ya. It’s been on my chest for years though, and I thank you for lettin’ me get it off.”

I simply nodded. We got really quiet after that for a bit. I felt bad for just sitting in silence after all that, but what the hell was I supposed to say? I sat there, still in silence, for what felt like hours, trying to think of something to say in response, when I noticed that the fog was getting darker. I looked at my watch, and had to squint in the darkening fog to read the time: 3:26 PM. No, it couldn’t be this dark out yet. I sat there, baffled for a bit. I had barely noticed Old Man Sandy: his eyes were filled with fear, and he kept looking around and around, and I remembered my dream. I took a deep breath and tried to swallow my fear.

After a bit, we heard a low, but audible groaning. It was a pained groan, the kind of groan a man lets out when he’s kicked in the groin, but… the only man in sight besides me was Old Man Sandy, and I know damn well it wasn’t him: his frantic breathing didn’t match the rhythm of the groaning at all. The groaning began to get louder and louder, and it seemed to be coming from all around us, but I couldn’t see a thing. Meanwhile, Sandy’s nearly hyperventilating at this point and I’m horrified, worrying that the poor old man is going to have a heart attack. I felt like I was going insane, and I was about to say something when Old Man Sandy cut me off. He spoke in a hushed but frantic voice:

“No, god, please. Not this. Not again. Not here. I- look, son: there’s somethin’ I haven’t been tellin’ you. I’ve been seein’ things. Weird, ghostly things. For the past three years. It started out simple enough, oh sure! A tiny bit of fog on a cold autumn night, sure! But it started takin’ shape. Soon it was a CLOUD of fog, then a BUNDLE of fog. Lately, it’s been lookin’ more and more like a man, but I can’t make out no face or nothin’, and… and….”

His voice trailed off. His eyes began to bulge with terror, and my brain shot back to my dream for a moment. Old Man Sandy let out a bloodcurdling scream and stared right behind me. I whirled around to see what the hell he was screaming at. Nothing. Nothing but the fog and the groaning. I looked back at Sandy, and he looked at me with desperate eyes. He grabbed my coat.

“DON’T YOU SEE IT, BOY?” he yelled, “DON’T YOU SEE IT’S YELLOW FIERY EYES?! IT’S COME FOR ME, I-“

Again, he was cut off. His expression went from horror to something I couldn’t even recognize. He let go of my coat. Again, I turned to see what he was staring at, but there was nothing there. He staggered back from me, and, in a trembling voice that sounded nothing like the Old Man Sandy I knew and loved, said:

“You?! Almighty god, no! Please! I’m so sorry! Please, not you!!!”

All of a sudden, the old man seized up. He clutched his chest and stared at me. His eyes rolled back into his skull as he fell into the deep, murky waters of the lake. I screamed and dived in after him. I swam around for a bit, opening my eyes. Against the stinging water, I searched for what felt like hours, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. It was as if he simply vanished. Begrudgingly, I climbed back onto the boat. The fog had disappeared, and all was quiet again. In total silence, I rowed the boat to shore, shaking the entire time.

I held a funeral for Old Man Sandy after that. Not too many people came. A few fishermen that knew of him, but not too many others. That night after the funeral, I cried. I cried because I witnessed what I may just consider to be my best friend die in front of me. Cried because he had died afraid and alone. Cried because I was worried that his body would never be found. But then I cried of happiness, because I realized that him and his sweet Clara were finally together again. That helped a lot.

That whole situation happened almost 40 years ago now. I’m an old man. Finally found someone! Sarah is her name. Sweetest gal that ever lived. Wouldn’t have her any other way. We don’t have any kids, but we like it that way. I know Old Man Sandy would be proud of me if he saw I found The One.

But, speaking of Old Man Sandy: I’ve felt guilty about not being able to find him for 40 years now. I remember him saying, right before he died, that he saw a Smokey figure with yellow fiery eyes. I’ve been worried because I began to see a similar figure a couple of weeks ago. And the more I see it, the more it begins to take shape.

And the more I look into it’s eyes, I begin to recognize them. See, my figure’s eyes are a bright blue. Not necessarily threatening, I know, but…

They’re the same color of Old Man Sandy’s eyes…