The Old Man and the Monster

Long ago, in a small village, there lived an old man. He was absolutely passionate about fishing. But there was one problem—he was a terrible fisherman. He would sit by the sea all day, and the few fish he managed to catch weren’t even enough for dinner. The old man thought about what to do and came up with an idea: "I’ll go fishing at night. There’s no one around then, and the fish are sleepy and calm. Maybe I’ll get lucky."

One night, the old man went to the sea. He found a quiet spot near a cliff, cast his fishing rod, and began to wait. Suddenly, he noticed another fisherman sitting behind the cliff.

The old man got angry. "Even at night, there’s no peace," he thought. "Why did he have to come to my spot?" He wanted to tell the other fisherman to leave, but then he changed his mind and decided to take a closer look.

When he looked more carefully, he was so frightened that he lost his voice—behind the cliff sat a monster that lived in a large mulberry tree: its face was red, its hair was red and sticking out in all directions. The old man was terrified. He shrunk back, barely breathing, and completely forgot about fishing. Meanwhile, the monster’s fishing rod kept catching fish. They sat like that until dawn.

"Just wait for the morning," thought the old man. "When the sun rises, the monster will disappear. I’ll never go fishing at night again!" As it began to grow light, the monster stood up, stretched, and asked:

"Hey, old man, why are you so quiet? Are you afraid of me? Don’t be, I won’t hurt you. I see you’re also a fan of night fishing. I like that—it’s boring to spend the nights alone."

"I didn’t know," replied the old man, "that monsters enjoy eating fish. I never would’ve thought you’d come fishing."

"I don’t actually like fish," the monster grimaced. "I only enjoy the fish’s eyes. I don’t touch the rest of the fish."

"What do you do with the rest of it?" the old man asked, surprised.

"I throw it away," the monster replied. "But if you want, you can take it."

The old man stood there, unsure what to do. He was afraid to take the fish from the monster.

"What’s the matter?" the monster laughed. "Take it—you won’t regret it. It’s just fish."

The old man took the fish, brought it home, and made fish soup. It turned out delicious.

From then on, this became their routine. As soon as the moon rose, the old man would grab his fishing rod and hurry to the fishing spot, where the monster would already be waiting for him at the gate.

"Hello, old man," the monster would say. "It’s a warm night tonight. I can feel it—it’ll be a good catch."

They would go to the shore, sit by the cliff, and fish until morning. When dawn approached, the monster would take the left eye from each fish and eat it, giving the rest to the old man.

The monster always caught a lot of fish. The old man started bringing home so much fish that he couldn’t eat it all himself. He decided to start selling it. And, wouldn’t you know it, the eyeless fish sold out in an instant!

The old man grew rich. He became too lazy to go fishing with the monster every night. So he decided to get rid of his friend.

One night, as they were fishing, the old man said:

"You’re so lucky at fishing, monster. I bet there’s nothing in the world you can’t do."

"That’s probably true," the monster agreed. "There’s a lot I can do."

"Is there really nothing in the world that scares you?" the old man asked, surprised.

"It’s hard to scare me," the monster laughed. "But there are two things I really don’t like. I’ve never told anyone, but I’ll tell you, as a friend. I really hate slippery octopuses, and I also don’t like roosters that announce the start of the day."

The old man remembered the monster’s words well and decided to scare it no matter what.

The old man waited for nightfall, put on a straw cloak, pulled a hood over his head, and climbed onto the roof of his house—waiting for the monster to come for him. The monster, unaware of the old man’s scheme, walked along the path, swinging its fishing rod and humming a tune. When it reached the gate, it stopped as if rooted to the spot. It saw a large rooster sitting on the roof, flapping its wings.

The monster was puzzled: "What’s a rooster doing on the roof in the middle of the night?" The old man, seeing that the monster had noticed him, started flapping his arms like wings even faster and crowing at the top of his lungs: "Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo! The sun will rise soon! The sun will rise soon!"

The monster was frightened and stepped back, but then it stopped. "This rooster has a strange voice," it thought. "It sounds like an old man’s." It realized that the old man was trying to trick it and grew angry.

"Where’s your gratitude, old man?" it asked. "I wanted to be friends with you, and you..."

The monster began to cry, covered its face with its hands, and ran away. But at the gate, it saw a slippery, disgusting octopus. The monster screamed, trembled, and disappeared into the darkness as if it had never been there at all.

The old man was delighted to be rid of the monster. "I don’t need to go fishing anymore," he thought. "I’ll stay at home, count my money, and bask in the sun."

But things didn’t turn out as the old man hoped. He woke up the next morning—aching all over. He groaned and groaned, and then he died.

Old folks say the monster punished him for his ingratitude.

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The Old Man and the Monster

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