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It was the summer of 1901, a hot summer that year, the humidity making sweat drip down your back and flies buzz around you like you were already dead.
Braeden wasn't built for the hot weather, he had been born up north, where the summer was always pleasantly cool, if not chilly.
But here, in the seaside town of Gilbertine, it was like the heat had a vendetta against him.
Braeden lay, head pounding like it had a heartbeat of its own, on the ship deck. The mornings catch filled the air with its unpleasant smell, the hot sun making it even worse.
The humidity made Braeden feel like he had jumped into the ocean, either that or the sweat that was pooling underneath him.
He still needed to be out on the water for two more hours, so he had 'more time for more fish'.
Braeden really hated his boss. But he needed the money, and moments like these were just the price he needed to pay.
Besides, if he didn't work hard enough, he could be living on one of the poorhouses on the dock, doomed to a life of corporate slavework with measly meals two times a day.
Braeden pulled himself off the ground pitifully, and latched a hook onto his fishing pole, attaching a piece of fresh meat.
He wiped the blood off of his hands onto his pants, remembering what the butcher had told him- This shit makes the fish go wild.
This shit makes the fish go wild...Braeden just needed on large fish and he could stop working for the morning, and return home.
He threw the line, it landing in the water with a plop. Then he waited. Smaller fish could be easily caught with nets, but for bigger ones, you needed patience.
He needed the money, badly, so maybe thats why he waited there. His family needed food, new clothes, his little cousin needed new schoolbooks.
A little extra cash than usual, and they would be set for weeks.
So maybe thats why Braeden waited there, in the humid air and hot sun for over thirty minutes.
Perhaps maybe thats why Braeden decided to keep pulling when he felt the line tug, even though he knew he would blow his back out.
And maybe that's why when he saw he didn't catch a fish, but a struggling merman, Braeden contemplated for a minute if he should bring out the meatcleaver.