Young Wally

“C’malong,” his dad called out.

Wally bound along the overgrown trail after his dad, clutching his hand reel like it was made of gold, “How many fish do ya reckon we’re gonna catch, dad?”

“Probably a million. This is my secret spot after all.”

“Mum’ll be busy cooking them all when we get home.”

“Hehe, We bring a million fish home and Mum’ll make us eat ‘em raw. Ok here we are,” the trail ended almost at the water’s edge. There was a small tin boat, pulled up and flipped over on the shore. Wally’s dad put down his gear and flipped it back the right way, “Jump in.”

“Awesome! Where’d ya get this?” Wally asked excitedly, climbing in and sitting on a short wooden bench.

“Found it right here, actually,” His dad replied, placing his gear in front of Wally, before starting to push the boat in.

Wally giggled as the boat slid into the water and began rocking about. His dad climbed in and squeezed in beside him on the bench, “There’s not enough room, Dad!”

“You’re right, how about you sit on the esky,” His dad shuffled around the gear so that the cooler box was in the centre in front of him, “Hold on,” he opened it and took out a beer before closing it again, “There ya go. Sit on the lid.”

Wally squeezed off the bench and plopped down on the esky. His dad pulled out a small oar from underneath the bench and got to paddling them out into the lake. Wally peaked over the side of the boat down at the water, looking for fish, “Dad, I think I saw one!”

“Then here’s a good spot to start,” He stopped paddling and got to preparing their fishing gear. He made Wally stand again to grab bait out of the same cooler that held the drinks. He showed Wally how to put bait on a hook and how to throw his line. Wally could only throw the line out a metre or two, but his dad assured him that was fine and that the fish would come to him. He then prepared his own fishing rod, opened his beer, and cast his line.

It was a slow morning, his dad only caught a single perch that was too small so he threw it back in. For lunch, his dad opened the cooler again and pulled a lunch box filled with sandwiches, a sports drink for Wally and another beer for himself.

“Do ya reckon they’ll start biting after lunch?” Wally asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

“Hope so. You gotta be patient with fish, Wally. They can sense when you’re in a rush.”

“Really? Ok, I won’t rush. Hey dad, can I have a sip of your beer?”

“Na, you’re too young. You won’t like it.”

“C’mon dad! Just a sip!”

His dad made a big show of considering the idea deeply, before finally relenting and passing the can over, “Alright, don’t tell your mum though.”

“I won’t!” Wally grabbed the can eagerly with both hands and took a sip, “Ewww! Tastes awful!” He scrunched up his face and held the can as far away as possible.

“Told ya,” his dad laughed, taking the can back, “Alright, let’s get back to it.”

Wally was too busy washing away the flavour of beer with his sugary sports drink to reply.

His dad baited Wally’s line and handed it over, “Here ya go, mate.”

“Dad can you throw the line for me, I can’t get it out far enough!”

“Don’t worry about it. The fish will come to you, remember? Besides, the only way to become better at something is through practice.”

“Aww, Ok.” Wally looked out into the water and began spinning his line.

What his father said was true, practice makes perfect. But if you happen to possess supernatural proficiency, then you can skip all that practice and go straight to being perfect. After lunch, the hand reel felt totally different in Wally’s hand. It felt like it belonged. Like it was just an extension of his body.

Spinning the line around so fast that it whistled, Wally released it like a bullet over the water. It took several seconds until his hook finally splashed into the lake, dozens of metres away.

“Heyyyy, that was impressive! See, what did I tell you?” His dad clapped him on the back. He left Wally to it and cast his line out in the other direction.

Wally blushed and began pulling in his line in a way that he felt would be appealing to fish. Wally started to regret throwing the line so far because it was gonna take a long time to reel it back in on a hand line.

A flicker of gold in the water caught his attention. He leaned over the edge to get a better look and nearly screamed when a golden fish poked its head out of the water looking at him. Wally’s mouth opened in exaggerated shock. In the fish’s mouth was Wally’s fishing line, meaning he had hooked his first fish ever! Wally gripped his hand reel tight and gave the fish a challenging look. The fish grinned wide, gave him a cheeky wink, and then yanked backwards.

“Ah!,” Wally exclaimed as he flew off the edge of the boat, and landed in Lake Fortune with a splash.

“Wally!” His dad was quick to drop his rod and dive in after Wally. It turns out he was in no real danger though as they were soon back in the boat dripping wet.

“It winked at me! It was made of pure gold!” Little, wet Wally passionately explained to his equally wet father, who was now paddling them back to shore.

“Haha, the golden fish winked at you? That’s some story. I’m sure mum will love to hear it.”

“You believe me, don’t you Dad? Can we come back again and catch it tomorrow?”

“A golden, winking fish? Yeah, I believe you, mate. We’ll need to get you a new reel before we come back though. Also, your face is as red as a beetroot; we forgot to bring sunscreen. You’ll be feeling that for a couple of days. But we’ll be back, I promise.”

“Good! I’m definitely going to catch it next time! What’s that on the shore?” Wally pointed.

His dad had to lean around Wally to get a look at what he was pointing at, “Is that your…?” Once they paddled right up to the shore, Wally jumped out of the boat and grabbed the object. It was his lost fishing reel, lying there waiting for him.

He bounced up and down and held it like a trophy, “Yay! Now we can come back tomorrow right?!”

His dad shook his head and cursed, accidentally activating his power, “What the fish? How in the world did that get here?” He clamped his hand over his mouth when Wally cocked his head, realising his mistake too late, “Never repeat the words you just heard me say; Especially in front of your mother!”

“What’s ‘What the fish’ mean, Dad?”

🎣🎣🎣🎣🎣

Some bloke named Huey

A few days after the hottest day of summer in the Lake Fortune liquor shop, Huey strolled out of his office into the store, “Alright, Janet, time to close up. I’ll lock up, you empty the till.”

“Hold up, Huey. I’m a bit worried about Wally. Have you seen him these last few days? He usually always shows up and hassles me on the weekend, but I haven’t seen him once this week.”

Huey, the owner of the liquor shop sighed, “Na, I haven’t actually. Good call. Better find out where he is before he comes round and tries to pry the open door again. I’ll call over to the pub, and see if he’s there. Can you wait a bit longer?”

“Yeah, no worries.”

A sad truth about working in his line of business is that Huey and his staff got to know the regulars. Especially the regulars who were regulars for all the wrong reasons.

Wally was either the local legend or the local menace, depending on who you asked. An old loon who lived out by the lake somewhere. He’d walk into town several times a week to sell a few fish off to the market and then waste all that money on booze and fishing supplies.

The folks over at the pub loved him. After getting cashed up, he’d stop by there first, get a couple drinks and a greasy meal into him. Then they had this toy fishing rod behind the bar for him to grab so that he could regale the crowds with his latest tale of his ‘golden fish’.

Huey had to admit, the man was a fantastic storyteller. With the plastic rod in hand, Wally would leap from table to table, enthusiastically reenacting absurd fishing techniques and unbelievable situations his imaginary fish placed him in. He was so good at storytelling that Huey almost believed that there actually was a mischievous sparkling fish in the lake battling Wally day in and day out. Almost.

Fun stuff aside though, Wally was effectively an old homeless man with chronic alcoholism. If he stayed out drinking too late he’d usually end up in the drunk tank at the police station or passed out somewhere unsafe.

A few weeks back, he had tried to break into Huey’s shop at 4am, claiming he was gonna just take what he needed and leave money on the counter. Huey didn’t want a repeat incident so he was proactively seeking Wally out.

Lake Fortune was a small enough town that everyone knew everyone. In fact, it was Huey’s second cousin who ran the pub. He went back into his office and called her up. After a quick chat, he learned that Wally hadn’t been to the pub either. Now he was starting to worry.

He made a few more calls around town to places Wally frequented like the fishing supplier and the supermarket, but no one had seen him. And so finally he called his friend down at the police station. They hadn’t seen him there either so Huey ended up reporting Wally as missing. The police said they’d send someone out to the lake to have a look for him. To which Huey thanked them and then closed up his shop for the night.

Late the next day, Janet came to his office door to tell him, “There’s a couple of officers here to see you, Huey”

Huey stood and saw his friends from the police standing behind Janet, “G’day! Come on in,” he called out.

“Hello Huey,” his friend kept her face neutral, “Got some bad news about Wally. Let’s take a seat.”

“Oh No, Is he ok?” Huey sat down.

She shook her head, “Afraid not. We found him by the lake this morning. Drowned. We thought it right to let you know.”

“Damn,” Huey slouched down, he didn’t think he’d be so saddened by this news. With Wally’s lifestyle, it had been a long time coming after all. But still, if you know a man for over 20 years, it's a shock to hear he’s gone. Huey brought himself out of his thoughts and told the police, “Thanks for taking the time to come tell me. I appreciate it.”

“Thank you for reporting it. We knew Wally too. He spent more than a few nights in a cell sleeping off his drinks. He didn't have much in this world. It's good to know that in the end, at least he had a friend who looked for him.”

By the door, tears streamed down Janet’s face. Huey was feeling a bit teary himself. The police took their leave and Huey closed up the shop early that night. He went over to the pub and let everyone know the sad news. More tears were shed and everyone planned to hold a small funeral by the lake in a few days' time.

Through strange small-town rules, Huey ended up in possession of Wally’s cremated remains as the man had no living relatives. About a dozen people came to the lake to remember Wally. Everyone shared their favourite ‘Golden Fish’ story. Huey finished the gathering with a prayer that Wally was in a better place and spread his ashes out into the water.

He was the last to leave. He took one last look at the lake and could have sworn he saw golden light shining off of something in the depths. He rubbed the tears out of his eyes and looked again. Whatever it was, was gone.

🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺

Officer Chutney

An alarm was blaring throughout the police station. An emergency call had just come from Wanda’s place. Everyone burst into action. The Chook’s Creek police department took calls from her location VERY seriously. Dozens of officers rushed out into their cars and sped towards the centre of town. Trouble over at Wanda’s had a tendency to get out of hand.

Officer Chutney, a 10-year veteran of the local police force, firmly believed that If the police didn’t respond in full force within a few minutes every time a call came from Wanda’s, The entire town of Chook’s Creek would have burned down long ago.

Memories of tear-gassing circus clowns, cricket players, and trapeze artists only a few weeks ago were still fresh in his memory.

Chutney sighed. After arriving they found four unconscious soldiers dressed in white, a raving one-handed drunk, and Wanda in ‘full drama’ mode. Thankfully the cricket team didn’t seem to be involved this time. He was also thankful to score a job that allowed him to avoid Wanda.

He was outside helping load the mystery soldiers into ambulances when a commotion rose up. From out of town, two buses and a truck drove in and pulled up across the street from Wanda’s and formed a barricade of sorts, blocking the road. The doors slammed open and a line of people dressed in white, holding blunt weapons like golf clubs and rolling pins spilled out from the buses. They formed a line facing the police vehicles.

Chutney’s stomach dropped, it was happening again. He had to act quickly, “Code: red!” he shouted. The police scrambled into action, forming their own line between the people and white and Wanda’s place. Batons and shields were passed out. He grabbed a rookie and ordered him to go get the officers from inside.

The white-suits and the police were faced off from one another when from down the street, behind the white-suits, someone shouted, “OI YOU! COME BACK FOR MORE HAVE YA?!”

Chutney craned his neck to see over the heads of those in front of him. He spotted the matching green and gold of the newcomers' outfits, “Goddess help us,” he whispered, “It’s the cricket team.”

🚓🚓🚓🚓🚓

Ingrid

Hate. Hate hate hate. Ingrid’s feeling’s about most people could be summed up in that perfect four-letter word. But when it came to one individual in particular, it just wasn’t enough. Towards Tomas, she felt pure loathing. Who did he think he was being so cheerful and trusting? What a creepy, little, spoiled brat! It made her sick how much he smiled, spoke politely, and enjoyed the company of others.

Imagine her unhappiness then, when she was assigned to be his overseer (read as ‘babysitter’) while he trained with his new powers. It made her want to stomp someone's head into the pavement.

Although she hated almost every member of the church, she was forever grateful to it for taking her in. She shuddered to think what might have become of her, had it not. She might have become a successful, wealthy, socialite with a close group of friends and a loving family. Yuck! No, she was definitely better off as a soldier of faith.

It was by joining the church that she was able to meet The Matriarch, the most beautiful, unstoppable, killing machine in all creation. Not only that, but she gained the opportunity to live among several like-minded individuals, who had helped her find her life’s true purpose: committing grievous acts of violence against her enemies! It was a blessing that within the church, her socially-abnormal life’s purpose was not accepted, but encouraged.

So, yes, while she was grateful to be there, looking after Tomas had tested her faith to its limits. Now when Ingrid slept at night, she only dreamed of hurting Tomas.

Fortunately, that faith was rewarded not long after Tomas left her care. An order to capture him and drag him back to the church was issued to every member of the church only a few days later. The order was very clear that this could be done by any means necessary as long as he was brought back alive. Ooooooo she was gonna hurt him so bad.

Her black ops team was dispatched to some hick town nearby and ordered to wait for Tomas to appear. It was another test of her faith, as for two weeks there was no sign of him and she hated her teammates. But again, her faith was rewarded. One fateful day, Tomas appeared.

The brat had changed though. Something bad must have happened to Tomas in those two weeks. The change was so severe that Ingrid found herself wondering if the man they found inside the fortuneteller's shop was in fact a demon wearing Tomas’ skin instead. This wasn't just a dramatic exaggeration either. There was quite a lot of evidence supporting her theory:

For starters, the way he dressed had become outright indecent. No sane human would dress like that.

Then there was the way he fought. He moved with more grace and confidence than Ingrid knew him capable of. She had overseen his training after all. Not once did he use his power during the fight, he simply hadn’t needed to.

The most compelling evidence of demonic possession, however, was the way he spoke. Now, Ingrid wasn’t afraid of a little name-calling, but the rancid horror that spewed out of Tomas’ mouth was fricken unnatural. When he had called her a ‘lemon sucking goat heap’, it hurt more than being stabbed through the chest with a rusty knife. She instantly recalled all of her childhood trauma all at once. A boy she liked in primary school calling her ugly, her dad farting on the sofa when she was sitting next to him, her goldfish dying. It was too much, she blacked out.

When she regained her senses, tears streaked her face, and her team was losing badly. The events from then on were blurry. She remembered screaming at Poindexter. Captain Wolfe’s eye was flung into her face; bits of it got into her mouth. She vividly recalled a strange mix of fury and elation taking control of her actions as she tased the hell out of Tomas, and then it all went dark again.

The next thing she knew, she was waking up in the back of an ambulance with a splitting headache and the aftertaste of eyeball juice still on her tongue. A lot of people were making noise nearby. Sensing movement in the corner of her eye, her hand whipped out and grabbed the wrist of the infidel who had foolishly entered her personal space. She recognised him as one of the junior members of the church.

“What are you doing?” Ingrid demanded, squeezing his wrist tightly.

The startled junior let out a cry of pain, “Miss Ingrid, ma’am, I was just removing your handcuffs. Please let go ma’am, you're hurting me,”

Ingrid squeezed a little tighter before letting go. Something slammed into the side of the ambulance outside, “What’s happening?” she asked.

Rubbing his wrist, the man said, “It’s a disaster, the head priest is dead! I didn’t know what to do so I’ve been searching for someone to help but… Captain Wolfe is blind, Poindexter is on a ventilator, and The Frenchman is too afraid of giants to leave the ambulance he’s in. There are enemies everywhere and no one to lead us. ”

That was a lot to process. The head priest being dead was huge. How had he died? She hated the old coot but couldn’t deny his importance. Supposedly it was him who had discovered the Matriarch deep within an ancient jungle many years ago. Since that fateful encounter, he single-handedly raised the church up to the power that it was today. Without him, they were in for some trying times.

Then there was her team. She hated them also, but couldn’t deny their combat skill. There was no way that the Tomas she knew could have incapacitated them so thoroughly. That settled it, Tomas was a demon in human skin. She vowed to make it suffer next time they met.

But on to more immediate concerns, there were enemies outside. Who, where, why? Actually, it didn’t matter, she hated them already. They would have to be dealt with. And dealing with enemies was something Ingrid excelled in.

So with that in mind, she got up out of her stretcher, shaking her head to stop the world from spinning, then looked down at the pathetic man in the ambulance with her and told him, “We’ll discuss why you chose to wake me last after the others later. Come, we have enemies to crush,”

She threw open the doors of the ambulance and stepped out onto the battlefield. This is where she would claim her place as the new head priestess of the Church of the Wolf.