PIER SHOCK: Life and Death on the Pier A NOVEL

By James W Haddad

Although the little boy fisherman perceives his broken family as a normal way of life, he lives to fish and dreams of breaking a world record. He is driven by confidence and enthusiasm and his perseverance glows brighter than any kid his age. His devoted father stands by his side while his invidious mother, not only does everything within her po

• Language: English
• Publisher: Commonwealth Books Inc.,
• Release date: May 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781892986276

James W Haddad

James Haddad is a native of Miami, Floirda, and is a former journalist for the St. Croix Avis Newspaper. He has done extensive research in child abuse and neglect and worked as a volunteer for the Department of Children and Families, and is a qualified expert in his field. He is a faormer candidate for the Florida State Senate. He attended Florida International University for his Master's Degree. He is a columnist for Today Magazine and has written columns for numerous other magazines. This is his eighth classical novel. He is the auathor of the Wall Street Journal bestselling novel, Eyes of a Child.

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Author’s Note  

There is a typical cliché many writers commonly state, Writing a book is a laborious task, and, indeed it is, when the author is writing on a topic he knows little or nothing about and that was exactly my position when I undertook this ninety day project that turned into ten grueling months. 

At the constant urging of my eight-year-old boy, James William Khoudary who is very knowledgeable on fishing and is a wonderful fisherman and has caught every fish imaginable on the piers, I agreed to write this book. He educated me on rods, reels, lures, baits, lines, hooks, sabikis, sinkers, bobbers, casting nets, tides, currents and feeding times.   

But after aimlessly writing for two weeks and realizing I did not know what I was doing, I was ready to throw the pages away along with the idea of the book and forget about the whole project. This is when James came to my rescue and dictated the first paragraph to me, and periodically offered information throughout the book. 

Along with James’s knowledge, the internet, books on fishing, magazines, newspapers, periodicals and professional journals, I had finally compiled enough information to write the novel.  

And what a pleasure it was.  

He who is not kind to God's creatures, and to his own children, God will not be kind to him.—Prophet Muhammad

Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves. --Hebrew Proverb

A LONG TIME AGO this little boy was a fisherman and he loved to fish so much he wanted to devote his entire life to fishing and every day, as long as he did his homework, his father would take him to the pier. He was so good at fishing he would attach his sabiki to his line and catch three and four fish at a time. Once he caught eighteen fish in a row and that was his record catch. But he strove to break his record and a week later, while enhancing his skills, the little boy broke his record by catching twenty-two fish. Yet he was not satisfied and was obsessed with breaking his record of twenty-two. If he would have caught a million fish he would not have been satisfied because he wanted to catch all the fish in the sea. He dreamed of being inducted into the Fishing Hall of Fame and in his mind he would be. It was just a matter of time. Whenever he came to the pier nothing seemed to stand in his way, and he caught so many fish, it looked like he was on the road to inevitable fishing fame.  

     The little boy was keen and lean with dark brown eyes glistening in the sun. His brown eyes were gentle and passive and full of vigor but could be as murky as the sea on a stormy day if he did not get his way. His shoulders were wide and it made him walk with pride and his strong arms dangling at his sides made him feel he was a prize in disguise. 

     He did not fit the typical profile of a fisherman. But it did not bother him and he was grateful he did not stink of sweat and slime and his upper lip was not encrusted with the yellow stain of tobacco. His breath never stunk of alcohol and none of his teeth were rotten. His sober look and pleasant demeanor reflected a hint of intelligence and he got along well with most of the fishermen. 

     He fished for sport and never for food so whenever he brought up a fish he would delight as it would shiver and flap its tail on the wooden planks of the pier before he would toss it back into the ocean. Most were grunts and blowfish and pilchards along with an occasional yellowtail snapper or jack mackerel.    

     It made the little boy so sad to see fishermen take a fish and thrust a knife into its gut or club it in the head or stomp on its body until blood spilled out of its eyes and mouth and often leave it to rot on the pier.  

     The fishermen saw he fished for sport and respected him but many still killed their fish if they ate them or not. The little boy accosted a Negro fisherman and said. Why are you killing the fish for no reason? You are not eating them so why don’t you throw them back into the ocean?   

    The fisherman looked at the little boy and nodded and smiled.  

     I don’t know why. I just do it because I like to.                     

     The little boy had a big tear in his eye. 

     Why would anyone like to kill fish for no reason? It would not be nice to catch you and kill you, would it?       

    The fisherman looked at the little boy and nodded and smiled again and spoke with pure sincerity. 

     No, it wouldn’t be nice. But I’m still going to kill my fish and you can do whatever you want with yours.  

     The little boy was sadder but kept his feelings to himself and kept fishing alone as the big tear rolled down his cheek.  

     What grade are you in? he asked the fisherman.  

      The fisherman looked embarrassed and laughed. 

     I quit school years ago. I have a seventh-grade education. 

     The little boy looked sadly at the fisherman and said. 

      So that’s what’s wrong with you. 

     Everybody around him broke out laughing and although the little boy did not find it funny, he began to laugh with them. 

     For a while the black fisherman grinned and laughed with them then gradually felt he was being derided and put a frown on his face. 

     I’ve had enough of you, boy! You’re sassy. Where’s your father? 

     That’s for me to know and for you to find out, the little boy said sarcastically but politely as he attached a different lure to his line. Why do you want to know? 

     You insulted me. And I’m going to tell your father and if he doesn’t whip you I will. 

     His father was sitting on a bench laughing with the others and he loved the conversation, and he loved his little boy. 

     His father was not a big man, and he was friendly and diplomatic, but he had a very nasty disposition and could get violent with the slightest provocation and if someone hurt his little boy, he would hurt them. 

     So, the little boy said as he stared defiantly at the fisherman. You want to whip me. My father can’t even whip me. What makes you think you can?

     You sure need to learn some manners and if I had my way, I would give you a good beating. 

     Make up your mind, the little boy said. First you are going to whip me and now if you had your way you would give me a good beating. All I asked is why you keep killing fish if you are not going to eat them. 

     Some fish in the ocean are bad and not edible. It is better to kill them than to throw them back in. 

     But that is not right, the little boy said. You can’t decide which fish lives and which one dies. Every fish has a right to live. There is no fish heaven. 

     I know that’s right. 

     Then stop doing it. 

     I’ll do what I want. 

     I’ll make a deal with you, the little boy said. If you don’t kill the fish, I won’t kill you. 

     Everybody broke out laughing again and the fisherman laughed with them and was losing his agitation with the little boy and was starting to like him. 

     No, the fisherman said. I’m going to kill my fish because that is what I want to do and you can’t stop me. 

     Okay, the little boy said with another tear in his eye and more sadness in his heart. I just won’t watch when you kill the fish. 

     He and his father leaned on the railing of the pier and the fishermen admired the little boy and were annoyed with the fisherman who killed the fish he did not eat. They greatly appreciated the little boy’s compassion and reverence for nature. The fishermen kept it to themselves and went about their fishing and minded their business as he quietly lectured his father about the tactics of fishing and the many ways to improve his skills and to enhance their chances of catching a whale with a minnow.   

     His father knew nothing about fishing, and did not love fishing, but to please his little boy, he stood by his side every time they went fishing and gave him the support he needed. Fishing was looked upon as an elite sport and his father knew it and encouraged it but did not partake in it. He was happy his little boy loved him and loved his fishing and had made a good choice in life.      

     The wind was beginning to gust and the little boy saw the waves crashing on the shore.  

     Today he hoped to catch a goliath grouper or a thousand-pound bluefin tuna, although his little fishing rod contained eight-pound line.  

     The little boy had a serious personality and did not like ridicule. It made him feel like he was nothing and was not respected and it made him want to cry. So, when he spoke with fishermen, he tried to respect them so they would respect him. And when he made up his mind, he would stick to it. The belief that senselessly killing fish was a crime loomed in his mind.  

     Look! the little boy said excitedly. He was looking over the railing and saw a small group of barracudas floating beneath the pier. 

     Wow, his father said. Should we get some squid? 

     No. They will be gone in a minute. They are just passing by. 

     How do you know? They might be there all day.         

     Barracudas are strong and fast and don’t stay in one place very long, the little boy said. They are picky eaters and always on the move. 

     But to be sure the little boy cast his line with a lure into the ocean and the barracudas followed it cautiously several times but did not strike it. On the fourth cast a large barracuda followed the lure and snapped at it but did not take it. The little boy was more excited than ever and cast again and this time a thirty-pound barracuda snatched it and took off in high speed. The line squealed as the drag went out. The little boy set the hook and began to fight him. 

     At this time all the white fishermen were cheering him on.  

     Look at the little boy bringing such a big fish in, the fishermen were shouting. 

     A group of black fishermen were also cheering him on and shouting in unison.

     Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Oh my gosh! It’s such a big fish. 

     Just as the little boy brought the fish to the top of the water and to the edge of the pier, he was excited and did not forget he had eight-pound line and painstakingly began to haul the barracuda onto the pier when the fish fell off and hit the water with a big splash. But the little boy was not disappointed, and his confidence soared because he felt this was a harbinger of what was yet to come. His body was shaking from the thrill of near victory and his arms were trembling from sudden strain. 

     Ouuuu! the black and white fishermen shouted in unison. Ouuuu! That was close.  

     If anybody had the luck as a fisherman, it’s you, his father said. 

     That’s because I have the fishing spirit in my blood. 

     You got something in your blood because you were four when you asked me to bring you to the pier.      

     I was actually three and a half and I caught my first fish, and you told me it was a grunt but that was all you knew and now I teach you about fishing. 

      Your memory is so clear. 

      I can still see the fish shivering and flapping on the pier and its mouth opening and closing as it gasped for air and the strange fisherman stepping on its stomach and blood spilling from its mouth and eyes and he thought he was doing me a favor. That was a moment I would never forget and promised myself I would never kill a fish and fish only for sport for the rest of my life.  

     You describe it as if it happened yesterday.                         

     It was the saddest part of my life. 

     The little boy’s happy confident mood turned slightly gloomy now and his glistening brown eyes lost a little luster.   

     He killed the fish before I could stop him, he said. What kind of fisherman could kill so easily and without mercy?         

     Most fishermen are nice. Killing fish is their business. He looked at his little boy and was sad for him and wished to switch topics. Let me buy your bait now. They have squid, ballyhoo and shrimp. What do you want to use today? 

     Squid for now. I have leftovers in my tackle box.      

     They are starting to rot and stink. I’ll buy you a new box of squid. 

     No, the little boy said. His will and his confidence were steadily rising. And his dream was as bright as the glaring sun beating down on them."     

     Why? his father asked. 

     I know what is best for now, the little boy said. I make the decisions when it comes to fishing. 

     I know, his father said. And I respect them. 

     You’re the best dad in the world, the little boy said. He knew kids whose fathers did not respect them. But he was being respected and he wished all the kids in the world could be respected and he was bloated with happiness and love for his father.  

     And you are the best son in the world, he said. If there is a God out there, He was good to me. He gave you to me to make up for the two kids I lost in that horrible car accident. I will always cherish His generosity and compassion. 

     It’s great to be grateful, Dad. 

     Then his mind fell back on fishing.  

     My day is at hand, he said. 

     How do you know? his father asked. 

     I can sense it and feel it in my bones. I will catch my dream fish before the day is out. 

    Your confidence is impressive and getting better by the moment, his father said. It will be the catalyst that launches you into a successful life.  

     My success will come from the sea and will come today. 

    We will see, his father said. But what about success in school and success in life? 

     I’m a B-plus student now. 

     You should be an A student. 

     With time, the little boy said. "I’m much more advanced than the average third-grader. My teacher, Mrs. Borello, tells me I speak and act like an adult all the time and I have the biggest vocabulary in the whole school. I even know what egregious and ominous and coquettish mean. And I can name all the fish in the sea."  

     But naming all the fish in the sea is not going to pay your bills or get you a good job or make you rich.  

     "I’m already