When you’re reading this, you might laugh, might call me crazy. Say I’m lying. But no—this ain’t something you can make up. I’m cursed. Not blessed, not lucky. Cursed. Just hear me out. I live by the water, as far from people as I can get. I do what I know—fishin’. Now, I wouldn’t call myself a fisherman, not exactly. That’d be a stretch. But you can call me Lou. That’s my name. That’s who I am. And one thing about me, I’m honest. I don’t hurt nobody—least I don’t mean to. I scrape by, make what little money I can, and spend it tryin’ to make more. So, you’ll understand my excitement when I discovered what I did. It wasn’t a good week. Hell, it wasn’t a good month. I had caught maybe three fish, and two somehow escaped. Fridge was empty, stomach was rumblin’, and bills were pilin’. I was desperate. Real desperate. All I had left in the pantry was some bread and cherry-flavored jello powder. So, I took what I had. Rolled that bread into a ball, wet it a little, and dipped it in that cherry powder. Pathetic, I know. But you gotta understand, I wasn’t thinkin’ straight. I was hungry. And hunger’ll make you try anything. I baited the hook, cast my line out, and waited. I didn’t have to wait long. In less than a minute, I felt a tug. A strong one. I never trust the first pull. Fish like to test you, play with the line a bit. So I waited some more. Then it tugged again, harder this time, almost yanked the whole damn rod outta my hands. That’s when I pulled back. Whatever was on that line was massive. The rod bent so far I thought it’d snap. It fought like hell. My arms were burning, but I couldn’t let go. After what felt like forever, I managed to reel it in. Biggest fish I ever laid eyes on. It must’ve been thirty pounds, easy. Thick and glistened in the sun. I stared at it, and then I laughed. It was ridiculous! I caught this monster fish with a ball of bread and jello powder? It didn’t make no sense. But I didn’t care. I had food. I had hope. I didn’t stop there. I couldn’t. I cast out again, same bread-and-jello bait, and I swear to you—same thing happened. Another fish. Then another. Within an hour, I had more fish than I knew what to do with. Now, any normal man would’ve quit while he was ahead. But I’m not any normal man. I started thinkin’—if I could catch this many fish, I could get anything. Next day, I started sellin’ them. Local markets, even a few restaurants. They couldn’t get enough. Word spread quick, and soon I had people comin’ from all over, askin’ where I was catchin’ ‘em, what bait I was usin’. I kept it all to myself. Shrugged it off like it was nothin’. For the first time in years, I had money. Real money. But that’s when things started… happenin’. At first, it was little things. I could never find my keys, or the engine on my truck would cut out halfway to wherever I was headin’. Then, it got worse. My roof started leakin’, no matter how many times I patched it up. My fridge stopped workin’ and all my food spoiled. Then the weirdest stuff started—stuff that ain’t had no explanation. I’d hear knockin’ at the door in the middle of the night. Nobody there. My fishin’ rods? They’d be out of place in the morning, like someone had been usin’ ‘em while I slept. Once, I swear I saw wet footprints leadin’ from the lake to my front porch. I thought maybe I was just tired, that I’d been workin’ too hard. But then the dreams started. I dreamt of the water, every night. Dark water, deep, pullin’ me under. And there was somethin’ in there, waitin’ for me. Eyes watchin’. The more fish I caught, the worse the dreams got. And it wasn’t just dreams. It started gettin’ real. I’d wake up with the taste of salt in my mouth, my sheets soaked. But it didn’t stop me from fishin’. It should have, but it didn’t. I was makin’ more money than I ever had. I thought it was worth it. But no. No matter how much I made, I couldn’t be happy, ‘cause something else was always goin’ wrong. It’s funny, ain’t it? How you can have everything you thought you wanted and still feel like you’re losin’? Last night… last night, I swear somethin’ came out of the water. And it wasn’t a dream. I made damn sure of that. It was standin’ in the doorway, drippin’ wet, waitin’ for me. My soul near left my body. I grabbed the first thing I could reach—a kitchen knife—and threw it at the thing. Went right through. Like a ghost, like it wasn’t even there. It hit the wall behind. The thing didn’t flinch. Just stood there, watchin’, before it vanished. Poof. Gone. I couldn’t sleep after that. I sat on the couch the rest of the night, thinkin’ it would come back. It didn’t. But somethin’ else did. This mornin’, there was a knock at the door. I opened it slow, and there it was—a note. The note said: _Dear Lou,_ _I hear you’ve been having some luck in the water. Unlucky Lou? Well, call me surprised._ _Is it that bait you’re using? You know, the cherry-flavored one? You’re not the first man to try that. Won’t be the last. But since you’ve found the secret to fishing, here’s the catch: you gotta stop._ _See, the thing about that bait—it ain’t just for bringing fish. It’s tied to the water, tied to something unexplainable. The more you fish, the more you take, the more the water wants something in return._ _The only way out is to surrender. Give the water yourself, then it can’t take nothing else. Sounds grim, I know, but after a while, it won’t seem so bad._ _So what do you think, Lou? What’s more important? You choose. But you don’t really have a choice._ _And, oh—next time I come knocking, just open the door. I don’t bite. :)_ That’s where the note ended. I didn’t want to believe it. I still don’t. But what choice do I have? That’s why I’m writin’ this. For whoever’s readin’, to warn you. If you’re thinkin’ it’s funny, go ahead. Laugh. I won’t blame you. But when you’re down on your luck, when all you’ve got is bread and cherry-flavored jello, just make a sandwich. Do anything else but what I did. Because once the fish start comin’ and the water starts takin’? You’ll wish you could go back to being unlucky.