The Man Who Loves to Fish

My husband, Ryan, got back from a night of fishing and started putting on makeup.
I screamed at him, shoving him into the bathroom and telling him to wash that crap off his face. But when I turned around, Ryan was standing right behind me.
“Who were you just talking to?” he asked.

1
My soul just about left my body.
I whipped my head back toward the bathroom. It was empty. Not a soul in sight.
I’d heard stories before. Things about how people who fish at night can easily run into… something unclean. Had Ryan brought one of them home?
He just smiled, his arms wrapping tightly around my waist, telling me not to be scared.
But if his hands were on my waist… whose hands were these, cold and firm, closing around my neck?
I thought I was going to lose my mind.
Ryan did his best to soothe me, telling me it was all in my head. He promised that after dinner, he’d take me to a church, and we could get a blessing.
Only then did I finally manage to catch my breath.

2
Just then, a message popped up on my phone. It was from Charlie, Ryan’s only fishing buddy. He was asking if anything strange had happened after Ryan got home.
A chill shot straight down my spine.
I quickly typed out everything that had just happened.
Charlie’s reply came back instantly, frantic. It happened. I knew it.
My heart leaped into my throat.
Charlie told me that while they were fishing last night, Ryan’s phone had fallen into the river. But instead of sinking, it just floated there on the surface. He remembered hearing a story when he was a kid: if something falls in the water and doesn’t sink, it’s because something underneath is holding it up. The moment you reach for it, it’ll pull you down to take your place.
But Ryan, worried about his expensive phone, reached for it anyway.
Sure enough, something yanked him straight into the water.
The weird part was, a moment later, Ryan swam back to the surface on his own. The real problem started after he got out of the water. Ryan never smokes, but that night, he bummed four or five cigarettes off Charlie, one after another. The way he held it, the way he inhaled… he looked like a man who’d been smoking for a decade.
Charlie had just talked to a friend of his who knows about this stuff. He was certain Ryan had been possessed by something from the river.
He said the only way to fix it was to take a piece of Ryan’s personal clothing, something he wears close to his skin, and burn it by the river where it happened. It would call Ryan’s soul back.
He told me he was already on his way, almost at my apartment building. He said I needed to grab something and come downstairs immediately.
And he gave me one last warning: whatever I did, don’t let Ryan know. And don’t believe a single word he says.
I etched his words into my mind.

3
I bolted into the bedroom, grabbed a few pairs of Ryan’s boxers, and stuffed them into my purse. I was just about to make up an excuse—an emergency at work, something I had to run and deal with—when Ryan called out from the kitchen that dinner was ready.
I hesitated. I had to make this look natural. Maybe I should just have a few bites.
But the second I sat down at the table…
Ryan looked at me, his expression unreadable. “Has Charlie contacted you?”
My heart hammered against my ribs.
I forced a laugh. “Charlie? Why would he contact me?”
“Because he drowned last night,” Ryan said, his voice flat. “While we were fishing.”
My world exploded.
If Charlie was dead… who had I been texting?

4
I fought to keep my composure.
This thing, whatever it was, knew Charlie would tell me the truth. So it was trying to discredit him first. I couldn't fall for it.
I feigned shock. “What? That’s horrible! Why didn’t you call the police?”
Ryan sighed, a weary sound. “Charlie’s dead, but his body is still walking around.”
I didn’t understand.
He explained. Last night, it was Charlie’s phone that fell into the river. And just like Charlie had said, it floated strangely on the surface. Ryan, having written horror novels for years, knew immediately that something was wrong, that there was something sinister in the water. But Charlie, stubborn as always, didn’t believe in any of it. He reached for his phone, and a hand dragged him under.
Ryan was about to call 911 when Charlie climbed back onto the bank. He thought everything was fine, but then Charlie grabbed him and tried to pull him into the water too. It took everything Ryan had to break free and escape.
When he got home, he did some research. A young couple had drowned in that same river last year. According to the lore, if a spirit hasn’t been dead for three years, it can’t claim a replacement. So the male spirit had taken over Charlie’s body.
The reason Charlie—the thing inside him—tried to pull Ryan into the water was so the female spirit could possess him. It just hadn't expected Ryan to get away.
“So it will come for you,” Ryan finished, his eyes dark with worry. “It knows I won’t fall for its tricks again, so you’re the next target. It will try to lure you to the river, so the other one can take you.”
My blood ran cold.
I quickly searched the local news on my phone. He was right. A couple had drowned there last year.
“So… the you that came home and put on makeup… was that the female spirit?”
Ryan nodded grimly. “It was probably looking for an opening.”
A knot of fear tightened in my stomach. “An opening?”

5
“In the books I’ve read,” Ryan explained, “these water spirits need an opening—a fated connection—to possess someone. Charlie falling into the river was the male spirit’s opening. For the female spirit to find hers, she has to use the connection Charlie already has.”
He looked at me. “Charlie doesn’t have a girlfriend. I’m his only close friend. So her opening is either me… or you.”
Another shiver wracked my body. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
“If I had,” he said, his voice low, “it would be like handing her the opening on a silver platter. It would have put you in even more danger.”
“So what do we do now?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“A water spirit can only survive out of its element for three days. As long as we don’t leave the apartment for three days, they can’t touch us. Then we can find an expert to go to the river and perform a rite to send them on their way.”
I finally let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. At least there was a plan. Everything, for now, had a logical, if terrifying, explanation.
I was about to finally take a bite of food when a flash of color under the table caught my eye.
My husband was wearing my black silk stockings.
A new wave of panic crashed over me.
What if he was the one possessed by the female spirit?
And what if this dinner, right here, right now… was the opening she was waiting for?
I couldn’t think about it. I had to get away. I had to contact Charlie—the real Charlie, or whatever was left of him—and figure this out.
I pushed my chair back, mumbling an excuse about not having an appetite and needing to lie down.
But just as I was about to close the bedroom door, Ryan was right behind me.
“I’ll lie down with you for a bit.”
My sanity finally snapped.

6
But strangely, as he lay beside me, he just held my hand, his grip firm.
Was he trying to keep me from escaping?
I didn’t dare move a muscle.
After a few minutes, he started to snore softly. I took my chance, slowly, carefully, trying to slip my hand from his.
Suddenly, his body jerked. He looked like he was having a nightmare, his face contorted in a struggle. He gasped, his voice a strangled whisper, “Honey! Don’t trust him! Don’t trust him!”
My mind reeled. Don’t trust who?
Charlie? Or him?
But looking at the situation now, whether Charlie was a threat or not, something was definitely wrong with Ryan.
My thoughts raced. I had to get out. Get out now.
But as I sat up, Ryan’s expression smoothed over, returning to normal. “Where are you going?” he asked calmly.
A chill seeped into my bones.
“The bathroom,” I stammered.
He didn’t say anything else.
I rushed into the bathroom and locked the door behind me. My hands shook as I pulled out my phone and messaged Charlie.
He replied instantly. I knew something was wrong when you didn’t come down. I called my friend, the expert. She’s on her way up to your floor right now.
Just as I read the message, a sharp knock-knock echoed from the front door.
My heart leaped.
I burst out of the bathroom, ready to throw the door open. But Ryan was faster. He got to it first.
My breath caught in my throat, my mind flooded with images of what was about to happen.
But when the door opened, it was just a courier with a package.
I was completely bewildered. Was Charlie lying to me?
I peeked through the crack in the door, glancing down the hallway. Standing near the elevators was a woman in a long white dress, her dark hair hanging loose around her face. She was staring directly at our apartment.
She didn’t look like any kind of spiritual expert I’d ever imagined. But maybe they had a different style these days. I tried to calm myself.
Then Ryan slammed the door shut, his face pale with terror.
“It’s over!” he whispered, his voice shaking. “That female ghost… she’s found us!”

7
My head felt like it was going to explode.
From a purely visual standpoint, that woman did not look normal. But I was already sure something was wrong with my husband. That meant I couldn’t afford to think Charlie was the problem anymore. And if Charlie wasn’t the problem, then this woman wasn’t a problem either.
Which meant the more afraid Ryan was of her, the safer she probably was for me.
All I had to do was stay alert, find a chance to get out, and I would survive.
But then, my husband opened the package from the courier. Inside was a small box of ritual supplies: powdered crimson and yellow parchment. He then went into his office and came back with a book titled A Compendium of Taoist Sigils. He meticulously copied a symbol from the book onto a piece of parchment, set it on fire, and let the ashes fall into a glass of water.
He held it out to me. “Drink this.”
I recoiled.
“It’s a genuine Five Thunder Talisman,” he said urgently. “It’s for protection.”
I was lost again. If Ryan was possessed by a ghost, why would he be able to draw a sacred Taoist symbol? And more importantly, why would he be foolish enough to use a talisman against a real-life spiritual master?
Unless… unless Ryan was fine.
Unless Charlie, realizing Ryan was protecting me, had brought the female ghost directly to our door to get to me.
That had to be the logic.
But then I remembered the stockings. I couldn’t get the image out of my head. Why would he be wearing my stockings?
Ryan let out a heavy sigh. “If I can’t save you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “I was going to try and trick the spirit into taking my body instead.”
My heart shattered into a million pieces.
He was trying to sacrifice himself for me. And I had suspected him, thought he was the monster. I was a fool.
Without another thought, I took the glass and drank the ashy water down. I would trust him completely.
Ryan then drew another sigil. He explained his plan. “In a minute, that ghost is going to knock four times. When she does, I’ll open the door and slap this sigil right on her forehead. If that doesn’t stop her, you need to slap her across the face, as hard as you can. The combination of the two should be enough to completely destroy her.”
I nodded, committing every word to memory.
Just then, the door rattled.
Knock. Knock. Knock. Three times.
But… wasn’t it supposed to be four?

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