Christmas Carol — A Miraculous Love Fairytale

By: Yariv Adan

Moishe, a sweet Jewish boy from a small village in Galicia, was less than 3 when the merciless wave of life events, crushed him to the depths and almost drowned him. He was celebrating his 3rd Seder with his family, when a mob of angry villagers broke into the house, and slaughtered the entire family, using their own kosher utensils. Moishe, who happened to be under the bed at that specific moment, searching for the Afikoman, was saved. Unfortunately, in body only, as his delicate soul was wounded forever. The image of his parents, siblings, and grandparents, swirling in their blood, and forks and knives with pieces of gefilte fish stabbing their hearts, guts, and throats, ripped something inside his young fragile mind. Moishe became obsessed with the idea of turning into a Carp fish which will be served to the local Bishop (who lead the mob) on the night of Christmas eve, so he can revenge his family — shooting his sharp bones into the soft throat of the bishop, and kill him in front of his wife, siblings, and children, with pieces of fish scattered around him.

Armed with the agility and naiveness that only kids posses, Moishe went into the woods, took off his clothes, and in the cold winter night of mid April Galicia — he jumped into the water pond, and remained there for the next 17 years.

Little Moishe spent 17 long years in that cold little pond. Days, and nights. Through burning summer sun, and freezing winter snow. He fed on nothing but small plants and planktons, and did nothing but wait. Even through the hazy screen of an icy top during the winter, he made sure to take note of the days, weeks, months, and years, so he won’t miss the due date, and that he could blow his fatal revenge on an unsuspecting festive Christmas eve. He didn’t trust the fish in him, so he spent his days practicing on developing an animal instinct to dispatch all his bones, like porcupine spikes, at the critical moment of death. He developed it into perfection.

After 17 years, mother nature finally had mercy on him, and slowly and gradually allowed him to turn into a Carp fish. It took 3 long years of additional suffering, confusion, and high risk. But it was on his 20th birthday, which happened to be the exact same day as Christmas eve, that Moishe from Galicia turned into the first kosher jewish Carp fish, ever to swim this Earth.

Unfortunately, aunt fate wasn’t as merciful and loving as her sister nature. Once the internal whirlpools of the soul relaxed, as the bodily transformation completed, it didn’t take Moishe more than the brains of a fish to realize that he doesn’t really have a plan. He had no idea where the Bishop lives (nor whether he still lives at all), whether he eats Carp for Christmas, where does he gets his fish, and even if all of that is resolved — how would Moishe, of all the fish in the market, would get on his plate and strike his final blow. Suddenly, all his life, and the suffering he went through, seemed so pointless and stupid. He thought of all the other possible routes he could have taken. He thought of his family, his home, their last supper. Struck with agony, regret, and confused depression, Moishe swam out of his hiding place in the corner of the pond, directly to the center of it, and then — to the exposed edge.

It was through layers of tiers and December lake water that he saw her. At first, he thought she was the sun. Her beautiful red hair, her smart soft eyes, her nose, her beautiful smiling lips — all in such a perfect natural harmony. She sat there, on the edge of the pond, in a traditional short woolen dress, her long beautiful legs stretching forward, and her eyes looking curiously into the water, as if waiting for someone. The world silenced when their gazes crossed. She looked deep into his smart Jewish eyes, and he knew that she was reading through his life. He couldn’t make a single move or sound. He just floated there, looking back at her — naked in his fish skin. Suddenly, she stretched two beautiful long arms to him, and picked him up, out of the water. She carefully patted him with a soft finger, and then kissed him — with the most compassionate and sweet lips ever to walk this Earth. It was too late when he realized where this was leading. Slowly, with both hands, she brought him again closer to her beautiful loving mouth, but this time, not for a kiss. With a caring and understanding gaze, she took a bite in the middle of his body — aimed directly at his heart. Moishe tried to shout “NO!!!!”, but all he could do was to gasp for air, in a fishy manner. He tried to fight his animal instinct. But even the strongest will and the truest wish, can’t beat an instinct which was practiced to perfection. As if in slow motion, he felt his body curving, his spine bowing, and every sharp bone of his body, shot, like a poisonous nuclear arrow, into the soft innocent wet tissue of her throat. The taste of her blood, got mixed with the taste of his own flesh, and the gasping of her last breaths resonated with his own. No lovers’ kiss was ever so perfect.

It was in the middle of Christmas Eve dinner that the bad news reached the Bishop. Struck with grief on the sudden and tragic death of his beautiful only daughter, he reached to the first object he could grab, and stabbed his heart, before it would shutter to pieces. It was an old silver knife, looted a lifetime ago, from a murdered Jewish house. His heavy head collapsed, and a stream of blood covered the decorated festive table, carrying small pieces of fish from the dirty knife.

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