Story: Jimmy's Fishing story

One peaceful Saturday morning, the town of Zephyr was alive with joy. Birds chirped from the trees, sunlight poured across rooftops, and a soft breeze carried the sounds of laughter from the town square. It was the day of the annual Zephyr Fair—an event Jimmy had waited for all year.

The fair stretched through the streets in a blur of color and excitement. Stalls overflowed with hand-crafted toys, fresh pastries, and blinking game booths. People bustled past with cotton candy in hand, balloons trailing behind them. The scent of kettle corn and grilled sausages hung in the warm summer air.

Jimmy walked beside his mother, wide-eyed and buzzing with excitement. He stopped at every booth, mesmerized by toy swords, kites, spinning tops, and jars of honey. Then, in a quiet corner of the fair, he spotted something different.

It wasn’t flashy or colorful. In fact, it was quite simple: a wooden fishing rod propped up beside a small table. A kind-looking old man sat behind it, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat and a gentle smile. On the table beside the rod were a spool of fishing line, a few hooks, and a worn leather pouch labeled BAIT.

Jimmy stepped closer, drawn in by something he couldn’t explain.

“Thinking about fishing?” the old man asked with a wink.

Jimmy nodded slowly. “I’ve never tried it before. But I want to.”

“Well, today’s a fine day to start,” the man said kindly. “I’ll give you the whole set—the rod, line, hooks, and bait—for a fair price.”

Jimmy turned to his mother, his eyes pleading. She smiled. “You get one thing. If this is it, go ahead.”

Jimmy paid with the money he’d been saving all month and accepted the bundle carefully.

“Can I try fishing today?” he asked, practically bouncing on his feet.

His mother sighed playfully. “Alright. But be careful, and be back before dark.”

Jimmy ran toward the nearby river, fishing gear in hand and heart full of excitement. The water glistened under the afternoon sun, surrounded by trees and birdsong. He set up clumsily, using the instructions the old man had scribbled on a piece of paper.

His first few casts were awkward. But soon, the line flew smoothly through the air and landed with a soft splash. He waited.

Nothing.

Then—tug! He jerked the rod and reeled in his very first fish. It was small but thrilling. A second tug, then a third—he couldn’t believe it. By evening, he had a bucket full of fish.

He brought them to the market. The fish were common, and after selling the entire catch, Jimmy earned sixty-seven dollars. He was proud, even if it wasn’t much.

As he counted his earnings, he remembered something the vendor had said:

“There’s a rare bait,” the man had told him. “Candy floss worms. Not cheap, but magical.”

Intrigued, Jimmy returned to the fair. He found the old man sitting on a bench, munching on a sandwich.

“Do you still have the candy floss worms?” Jimmy asked.

The man smiled and pulled out a small jar. Inside were strange worms that shimmered pink and blue, like spun sugar.

“Five dollars and twenty cents each,” the vendor said.

Jimmy bought two. He tucked one away and kept the other for a special fishing trip.

That night, he walked to the quiet pond near his house. The stars shimmered above, and fireflies danced in the reeds. He lit a lantern, baited his hook with the magical worm, and cast his line into the dark water.

Minutes passed.

Then—WHAM! The rod bent violently in his hands. Jimmy held tight. Whatever he had hooked was strong—unbelievably strong. His arms trembled, but he kept reeling in, refusing to give up.

At last, the fish broke the surface.

It was enormous—over a meter long. Its scales shimmered in every color imaginable, rippling like the northern lights. It blinked up at Jimmy, calm and curious.

The next day, Jimmy returned to the market with the fish in a large water-filled crate. People gathered quickly. Whispers filled the air.

“I’ll give you one hundred fifty dollars,” someone said.

“Three hundred!” shouted another.

“I’ll pay six hundred!” yelled a shopkeeper.

Then a man in a sharp black suit stepped forward.

“I’ll give you four thousand five hundred dollars,” he said smoothly.

Jimmy’s heart raced, but something didn’t feel right. Unsure, he left the market and searched for the old vendor again.

He found the man on the same bench beneath a tree, gazing at the sky.

Jimmy held out the crate.

The man’s eyes widened. “What in the name of Jesus Christ…”

He opened a worn, leather-bound book and flipped through its pages until he stopped on a faded illustration.

“There,” he said, pointing. “It’s a Dragicorn Fish. But these are usually no bigger than ten centimeters. Yours is… a legend.”

He closed the book slowly. “This fish is worth well over one hundred thousand dollars. Maybe more.”

Suddenly, the man in the suit returned—this time with others in tow, each holding briefcases filled with cash.

“Here’s the deal,” he said coldly. “One hundred thousand dollars. Take it now.”

Jimmy looked at the fish, glowing softly in the lantern light. It looked up at him, not frightened—just waiting.

He shook his head.

“No,” Jimmy said firmly.

He carried the fish back to the pond under the moonlit sky. The surface was still, like glass. Jimmy knelt down, lowered the Dragicorn Fish into the water, and watched as it paused, then swam off, leaving only ripples.

For a long time, Jimmy sat by the pond, the lantern glowing beside him.

He hadn’t taken the money. He hadn’t become rich.

But in his heart, he knew he’d done something more important—he had protected something rare and beautiful.

And sometimes, that was worth more than all the money in the world.