If you read long enough, you will be greeted by the fish.
There was a cluster of light forming at the end of the forest line. I found myself focusing on it. Obsessing over it. A beacon screaming its importance to me in my yearning for direction. I followed it through the brush and the bramble as a twig swung at me out of nowhere. Jabbing out from the field of pine tree soldiers, the twig punctured my arm.
There’s another bruise to add to my collection, I thought. In the next few weeks, I will forget where it came from.
The light became brighter as I neared it. It began breaking off into warm glowing clusters. Moving sporadically like children playing on a jungle gym, I realized the small clusters of light were fireflies. Bumping into one another and creating a racket amidst the white noise of the woods.
As they dodged to and fro, I stared at their glowing butts in a trance. What pulled me out of my standstill was the smell of freshwater, an unmistakable bandit to the forest. The fireflies were gathered beyond tree limbs and hovering just above the surface was my culprit: a large pond in the forest clearing. Luring me in.
The water was seemingly calm, but I knew there was chaotic life below. Moss growing as quickly as the next thought that popped into my head. Countless species of bugs and fish, names I wouldn’t be able to recall.
I felt naked, trembling in the clearing underneath the moonlight. It was as if I were a doe, nervous on instinct upon being placed in this limelight, but too desperate to pass up a sip of the cool nighttime water.
The firefly butts shimmered tiny twinkles of light onto the pond water. I could make out the spider-like pond skaters skirting atop the water’s surface. They seemed to be performing a little dance for me or maybe for the other creatures of the forest.
I could feel the forest breathing around me. As if all of its’ inhabitants were breathing together.
I began to strip my shoes off and pointed my big toe into the body of water as if it were a claw foot tub, standing white and pristine like the moon.
The pond water felt even cooler than I had imagined it would. But it was refreshing amidst the sticky air I had been trekking in. I could feel the mud underneath my feet envelop my skin as I stepped further inside.
I crouched to rest on my ankles and began scooping up cups of water to wash off my wound from the tree twig. The blood was bright on my pale skin underneath the moonlight as I poured myself into the water.
After splashing a few handfuls of water onto my arm, I began to realize my wound was disappearing. It was fading alongside each droplet of water. I was mesmerized to watch it disintegrate before me, with the warm glow of the fireflies beginning to warm my skin.
I found myself stepping further into the pond.
If the pond water has healed my arm, I thought. Maybe it can heal what’s inside of me.
With that last thought, I gulped a lungful of air and plunged under the surface in front of me—finding it much deeper than I imagined it to be.
The bubbles giggled at me and sputtered across my cheeks and ears. I was greeted with that familiar stillness that can only be found underwater.
I felt very calm and sank to test how far it took to reach the floor.
I found myself sinking, sinking. But I never felt panicked. I kept my eyes shut tightly in order to keep in touch with that muted resonance.
The pond water somehow felt warmer the deeper I sank. I felt like a moth awaiting metamorphosis, wrapped in a warm blanket of water for my cocoon.
This is way deeper than I imagined, I thought. I felt as if I may never stop sinking.
At last, I decided to open my eyes. There were lights twinkling down below me. They seemed to be lined up along a path. And finally, I could make out the floor of the pond.
“How strange,” a voice said. “What are you doing down here?”
I spun around to find a massive rainbow trout fish. The twinkling lights reflected off of his green scales and his eyes drew me in. His whiskers looked like a mustache and I couldn’t help but giggle with bubbles swirling out of me.
He opened his fat lips again, “Would you like to see around the place?”
His voice resounded clearly to me underneath the water. Although I couldn’t make a sound, it felt as if an ethereal cloud shrouded itself over me in the way that I no longer felt the need to breathe. Although I was completely submerged in the water, I needed no air.
But disregard my breathing underwater—did a large rainbow trout just speak to me? Twice?
“I know what you’re thinking because I can read it in your facial expressions,” he chuckled. Either to himself or to me…I wasn’t quite sure.
“Occasionally, we’ll get a human just passing through like you. Don’t be alarmed,” he turned away from me and began swimming toward the lights at the pond floor.
I found myself following him, swimming in my best breaststroke. Try to blend in as a frog, I humored myself. I have to assume that not everyone will be as charismatic as this trout.
Again, the deeper we swam, the warmer the pond water felt. As we neared the lights, what resembled a village began to form in my view. An occasional fish would amble along the pathway lit up by the lantern light. Completely incased in glass, the flames burned amidst the backdrop of the dark water. How the flames found their way all the way down here, I couldn’t justify.
I spotted a pond snail itching its way on the path—its shell reflecting the light from the lanterns.
“This is our peaceful village,” the big trout finally spoke. His voice was low and grumbly, almost like he rarely used it.
“We only have a few things, but we don’t need much,” he continued. “Having the calmness of the pond water surrounding us, we feel at ease.”
We had nearly reached the lantern-lit pathway at the floor of the pond. The inhabitants of the pond village, fish and other pond beings, were going about their night. The peacefulness of the village was hypnotizing me.
“During the daytime, the sun will glisten through and we can hear the muted sounds of birds chirping.” my trout guide said. “Occasionally, a deer or another type of creature will stop by for a sip of our water. They seem to gather the sense that there is something special about this pond.”
Something special? I pondered. Like the wound from my arm suddenly erasing itself.
“This pond seems to have some sort of healing power,” he said. “But anyhow, I happen to enjoy nights just a bit more. The pond has this quiet to it that is difficult to explain…although I’m sure you are familiar with what I’m talking about,” he said with a gentle smile.
As he fell silent, I found the stillness again. It felt like how I had always imagined resting on a cloud would feel like. Pressures were lifted and I could float.
We turned right off of the fork in the paths and the rainbow trout led me to something he called the “power source of the pond.” It was at the bottom center of the pond and as we encroached upon it, I could feel the rush of water increasing.
“This pond is ‘untouched’ and it has been for quite some time,” he told me. “It rests here, unknown in the deep of the forest thicket. Down here is where the pond receives its resurgence of water. It comes from a spring that gushes into it at all times.”
I closed my eyes to embrace the volume of water rushing into us and I began to cry.
“Some of our water in exchange for some of your water,” the trout reassured me. “Quite a special exchange, wouldn’t you agree?”
