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THE MAN

On a remote, peaceful fishing village, there is a bask of crocodiles. The local

lake is their home and there they spend all their days. One of these crocodiles however,

is different from the others, for it has a mind, and that is what set it apart. One can not

tell which one is it, for it is not any different in behavior or appearance than any other of

them, but that does not change the fact that one of them has thoughts.

It was once a man; a humble fisherman, with a loving wife and a cozy lifestyle.

He would just spend his days fishing, as it was enough to provide food and money for

his family. He didn't have any real hobbies or big aspirations, from childhood he was

raised with the knowledge that he would spend his life providing for the village and if

that was enough for all his ancestors, it should be enough for him. He had a few regrets,

here and there, but overall he was content with his life. There were not a lot of things to

do in the village, so fishing and sleeping were his favorite activities, followed closely by

eating and talking to his friends. One of his few regrets was his marriage, as he no

longer loved his wife. She however still loved him, and so he simply could not bring

himself to end their marriage. It did not help at all that divorces were unheard of in his

village. He just lived life day after day, sufficiently content that he was still alive.

And then he was a crocodile, simple as that. He himself does not know how it

happened. One afternoon he was lazily sitting by the lake, gazing at the stars when he

suddenly thought about swimming a little before returning home. He passed out as soon

as he dived and woke up in his new form. One could say he had died and reincarnated,

if it were not for the lack of a proper corpse or how he still had what remained of his

clothes on. It is not however not entirely wrong to say he had died; he had lost his

human life, forever unable to return. He was confused. He had no recollection of what

happened after he dived, and only after a few minutes he realized something was

different. Why am I on all fours? Why does the ground seem higher? What's wrong

with my mouth? What is that at the end of my back? All the questions filled his mind at

once, but he could not come up with a single logical answer. There was no proper

explanation for any of that, so he concluded he must have been dreaming. Attempting to

pinch himself led to his discovery that his arms were a lot shorter than he remembered.

He tried turning his head to look at his arm but to avail. And then it hit him. He tried

opening his mouth and as he expected, it opened far and wide, and he found himself

looking upwards. He already had a good idea of what he was by this point, but he just

needed visual confirmation, just to be sure. He did not bother to try and look at the

water, as he knew he would probably be unable to properly look down, so he went to

look for any nearby reflective surface. At first movement proved to be somewhat

difficult, as he was not used to the shape of his body or his limbs, but slowly he started

getting accustomed to it. He lost his clothes while attempting to walk for the first time,

but it did not bother him, as he no longer had any use for them. He roamed near the lake

in search of any surface he could use to see himself, but there was no surface he could

use in his current height. He eventually saw a light in the woods and for whatever

reason felt compelled to check it out. It was a father camping with his son. He never had

a son. Never felt any need to. He did sometimes consider it but his wife definitely did

not want it, and he never really felt like fighting over it. He slowly approached the

family, still struggling to move efficiently. The father was distracted telling the son a

story and the son was equally distracted listening to it. Fate, being the card it is, thought

it would be hilarious if that horror story just happened to be about killer crocodiles. It

was not all that hilarious however when the son noticed the reptile approaching his

father from behind. "Look dad!" he screamed and pointed. The man turned around and

screamed in terror "Holy shit a crocodile!"

The crocodile itself was caught by surprise with that scream. He was not entirely sure of

what he was up to this point, so at least that finally confirmed his suspicions; he was in

fact a crocodile. As the father rushed into the tent and grabbed a large knife, the

crocodile realized he was in danger and did all he could to run away as fast as possible.

He seemed to have a much better grasp of his movement somehow now that he had a

reason to run. Despite not being all that aware of the woods' layout or having that much

of a good sense of direction, he eventually found himself near the lake again. He was

apparently no longer in immediate danger, so he relaxed. And that's when it hit him. He

was a crocodile.

It surprised him; such a turn of events was unheard of. He could not think of

absolutely any reason or justification for this. He thought maybe it was some sort of

ironic punishment, but couldn't think of any time he had done anything bad for any

crocodile or anything of the sorts. He thought, and he thought. He kept thinking until he

noticed that he was still very much capable of thought. He had a mind and a conscience.

It seemed as thought he still had some extent of his humanity. He tried to speak, but

only a low growl would come out. All he could do was think. Maybe that alone would

be enough to allow him some sort of communication if it proved necessary, he thought.

He kept thinking constantly, because it reminded him that he was human. But he was

not.

And he eventually realized the pointlessness of it all. Thinking would not bring

his humanity back. Nothing would. He was now confined to live the rest of his life as a

crocodile or give up and die. He did not wish for his death, so he decided to just go

along with it.

He would eat and sleep, and that was enough for him. He could not feel his

instincts taking over him, everything just felt natural, if not logical. Was it not

reasonable to just live? There was no need for deeper thoughts or opinions, even speech.

He would just passively live, eating fish or birds that came near the lake, trying not to

bother the local fishers or draw too much attention. He thought once in a while, in fear

that if he stopped thinking he would lose whatever humanity he had left; and perhaps

that was a correct supposition, but the fact that went unnoticed by him is that the sheer

desire to keep some of his humanity despite how it was completely useless for him at

his current state was already something that made him somewhat more human. Simply

put, it is very human to wish to be human.

He did not miss his wife as much as he felt he should, and he was sure she must

have been suffering a lot, but there was nothing he could do, and he accepted that. He

did miss his fellow fishermen. Occasionally some of his old friends would fish at the

lake and he would simply observe them from a distance, remembering the life he had

lost. He could never speak to them again, and it bothered him, but there was nothing he

could do, and he accepted that. More and more he accepted his circumstances and got

used to his new life. It did however worry him how fast he was adapting and accepting

it, as he felt as if he should be rejecting it and doing all he could to go back to old life;

but he couldn't bring himself to fight it and refuse it. He just went along with it. It might

have been his instincts kicking in and telling him that everything was fine as it was and

there was no need for any effort. Or maybe it was because all his life he had just gone

along with it, never fighting back, because that's how he was raised, and that was good

enough for him and his village. And so, he carried on.

THE WIFE

It was a cold, dark morning. Aixa was quietly sobbing, sitting at the kitchen

table. There was a disturbing contrast between the sunflowers and angels on the

tablecloth and the woman's visible despair. Her short black hair was a complete mess,

and her makeup had been disarranged by her tears, making her accentuated latino

features harder to notice and covering part of her olive skin. Her husband went missing

two days ago, and she was having a tough time coping with his disappearance. He was

last seen returning home from his daily chores. His clothes were found near a lake, but

there was no corpse or any blood. The morning she woke up without him by her side

did worry her, but she did not expect it to be anything this serious.

She met Indalecio many years ago. Being a small village, information goes

around pretty fast; she was a fresh face, as her parents had recently moved in, and he

just wanted to meet the new villagers. They grew up together and decided to marry at a

relatively early age. They both knew they didn't really have a lot of choices and they

sufficiently liked each other. She had grown to really love him, but she knew that he

probably no longer loved her. It was selfish of her to keep him even though she knew it

was not what he wanted, but she would never let him go. And now he vanished. Maybe

he finally grew too tired of her and decided to run away? She couldn't help but wonder

if she was the cause for his disappearance.

And now there she is, trying her best not to cry and stay strong despite her

emotional dependence on her husband. She never thought about his death, she was just

not ready for it. Maybe he isn't dead, she thought, but that just led her to believe that he

had willingly left her for another woman. And she did not wish to think of that.

The village didn't have a lot of security, everyone knew each other rather well

and from that came a mutual trust. The local policemen were still looking for any clues

to his whereabouts, but there was nothing to be found. She could not accept that. She

would wail at the searchers in hopes that they would do a proper job and take this

seriously, but they were doing all they could. She started gathering information herself,

looking everywhere for any possible sort of clue, anything he might have done in the

last few days that could give her a lead, but the last few days had been completely

ordinary. Nothing he did at home seemed any different than usual. She tried consulting

his fishing colleagues, but none of them knew anything. They must be hiding something,

she thought, and so she confronted them, desperation getting the best of her. They did

not give in to her cries for help.

She asked everyone she knew about them. None of them knew anything relevant.

There was nothing to know. There was no catch, no trick, no clue, no evidence. But she

did not know that, and so she sought answers that nobody could have, and it was driving

her insane.

Now, two days later, she's slowly giving up. Her sadness is slowly turning into

anger and hatred. How come nobody knows anything? How come nobody is trying to

find him but me? How come I'm the only one who cares? She asked and she asked, but

lately she had gotten used to none of her questions ever getting appropriate answers.

Two months later, she had already gone mad, and his best friend came to visit. She was

almost unrecognizable, malnourished and unkempt as she was. He did all he could to

help her, but she just saw that as an attempt to seduce her. Her mind was already

crumbling, so she threatened him with a knife. He did not appreciate that.

THE FRIEND

"Put down the knife. Please."

"NO. GET OUT OF HERE."

"Please. I don't want to hurt you."

"I SAID GET OUT!"

She started approaching him, still brandishing the knife. He backed down

"Alright, I'll leave. Please come see me when-"

"GET OOOOOOUUUUUT!"

She lunged at him. He dodged and grabbed her hands.

"Will you listen to me?"

"P-Please let me go... Just leave me alone."

She started whimpering. He released her, and she fell to the ground, broken. He

grabbed a chair, sat down, and sighed, massaging his eyebrows.

"Look, Ax, I'm his best friend, and if there's someone who should know

anything it's me. And I have no idea what happened. Please, stop trying so hard. I won't

ask you to move on so quickly, but please calm down, okay?"

"I can't accept it, Socorro. I cannot accept it. How dare he just leave me like

this?"

"I don't think he left. I know as much as you do, but from what we know it

doesn't look like he ran away."

"Are you saying he's dead?"

She was already holding back tears again.

"Well, we can't say anything yet. You could say he was eaten by the crocodiles

near the lake but there was no blood and his clothes were not all that damaged. If he was

to run away or something of the sorts I'm damn sure he would tell me. We thought

about a possible kidnapping but there would be no reason whatsoever to kidnap

someone like him in a place like this."

She was walking around the kitchen aimlessly. He still had his head down,

wondering what they should do. Socorro was Indalecio's childhood friend. Indalecio

was the one who taught Socorro how to fish, and Socorro was the one who introduced

him to Aixa. They've been friends for as long as they remember, they grew up together

and shared most of their experiences. Socorro had all the right to be as worried as Aixa,

but he was trying to keep his head cool and think this through. He had a bad feeling

there was something more to this. Something they just would never guess. It was just a

hunch, but he could be onto something. His dark brown hair and moustache were

already starting to go white, and his face was beginning to show signs of his age. He

was a few years older than the couple after all, and this stress was not helping either.

He cleared his throat and spoke with an authoritarian but friendly tone.

"I think something else happened. Please listen to me."

"Like what."

"I'm not terribly sure myself, but none of the clues lead anywhere. If we didn't

find any body or signs of violence other than his clothes, he's probably still alive. If he

didn't talk to any of his friends about leaving, not even once, he's probably still here.

That leaves us the possibility that he was kidnapped, but there can't be any reason for

that, and this village never had any sort of kidnapping before."

"It's never too late to start; some new people have been moving in over the

years."

"But why kidnap him of all people, when people like the village headman walk

around unprotected?"

"I don't know, he was alone and they saw the opportunity?"

"But if that was the case we'd see more signs of a struggle than just his clothes.

And besides, you'd assume they'd have already contacted you by now, no?"

"What are you getting at?"

"What else could've happened?"

"Nothing. I can't think of anything else."

"Precisely."

"What?"

"It's beyond us. Whatever happened is just beyond our comprehension."

"What the hell are you getting at here?"

"What I'm getting at is: we might never know what happened. And we'll have to

accept that, sooner or later."

"I just can't take that for an answer. I need to know. I need to know why my

husband in no longer by my side. I want to know why I have to sleep alone and wake up

alone every day now. I want to know what's keeping him from walking through that

door right now."

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to accept it, sooner or later."

"You don't tell me what I have to accept or not. You don't have that right. I'll

keep looking, I'm going to find him, I know it."

And so she refused to settle down. Day after day, she would look for him

everywhere. Under the table, in the space between the walls, inside the fishing boats;

she would look for him everywhere, hell-bent on finding him. And that's what she did.

And that was enough, because she believed that if she kept looking, sooner or later

she'd find something, anything that could lead her back to him. Socorro, however, just

let it go, and so did the rest of the village, and that was, unfortunately or not, enough for

them. It was a matter of months and people barely remembered him, for his

transformation was no different than death; a death without a corpse. Unlike death,

however, he kept on living his new life, day after day, just staying alive. Despite his

wife's suffering, it never made too much of a difference. Some villagers lost a good

friend, a wife lost her husband, and basically her life in consequence, but that aside in

the greater sum of things it did not make a lasting difference to the village. Neither was

it too different for the man himself. He was no longer human, all he could do was think,

but in his human life, he never really used his thoughts for anything meaningful. It was

all laid out for him; he just had to play along. And now despite his capability to think

it's easier to just let his instincts tell him what to do and play along. Nothing changed.

He'll just keep living his cozy life, and that should be enough.

NATURE

Does it matter?

Yes, it does; a man lost his humanity and will have to live the rest of live as an animal.

Does it matter?

Yes, it does; a woman lost her loved one and is now in a terrible depression.

Does it matter?

Yes, it does; a man lost his best friend, unable to ever find out how exactly it happened.

Does it matter?

Yes, it does; the village just lost someone who provided for it.

Does it matter?

Yes, it does; the world just lost a valuable life.

It does not.

Does it matter?

No, it does not; the man himself does not care. He is now a crocodile.

Does it matter?

No, it does not; the woman clearly had mental issues. It was a matter of time.

Does it matter?

No, it does not; the man will move on. It was not his only friend.

Does it matter?

No, it does not; there are enough fishermen. The village will still prosper.

Does it matter?

No, it does not; there are billions of people still alive and well. A single life should not

matter.

But why?

Who is at fault?

No one is. There is no point in blaming anyone.

Who is at fault?

No person.

What is at fault?

Nature is.

Why is that?

It was curious.

Why is that?

It wanted to see what would happen.

Why is that?

It wanted to see the value of a man.

What did it see?

There is no value.

What did it see?

Value is not measurable.

Why is that?

Because one could argue that a person's worth is calculated by his actions, but

sometimes people can be very valuable without doing anything extraordinary. And one

could argue that a person's worth is calculated by how much his peers value him, but

many people do all sorts of beneficent actions every day and yet go by unnoticed.

Does that mean a man who is not valuable to anyone and does nothing good to society

is worthless?

No. As a matter of fact much depends on how much one values oneself. A man who

does not value himself in the slightest might as well be worthless. A man who over

valuates himself might as well be worthless. A man who knows his place and values his

life for what it is, however, is worth the life that was given to him.

Does it matter?

Did the man have any value?

Yes he did. He meant a lot to his peers and was a good man.

Did the man have any value?

No, he did not. His disappearance affected a minimal amount of people. Nothing

changed.

Did the man have any value?

There is no value. The man is content.

Is that enough?

Yes. He still values his life.

What about the wife?

There is nothing he could do about that.

Did he try?

He is incapable of trying.

Does that make it any better?

It does not. But it's not entirely his fault. At least the man is content.

Is the man content?

Yes he is. Adaptation was surprisingly smooth. In no time he was but a simple crocodile,

not different in appearance or behavior than any other. His thoughts were nothing but a

pastime, a hobby. They entertained him. Regardless of how human he still was, he

slowly forgot about his past life. Alienated from proper human interaction, his mind is

now nothing but a plaything by itself. It has no purpose other than his own petty

entertainment at his own thoughts. He was himself, and yet something else, and the

something else appreciated his conscience, useless as it was. But that did not bother him.

He lives on; sufficiently content he is still alive.

Is that wrong?

No. It's just fine. It's enough.

Is it?

It is.