Fishy(Robin Joy Wirth) Stanley held five little crackers in his hand — shaped like fish. In his other hand he held a sniper rifle. Sweat ran down his face in rivulets as he set down four of the fish and held the fifth in his hand. Taking careful aim, he popped the fish into his mouth.

He let the fish lie on his tongue for a few moments. He took several deep, ragged breaths. He chewed up the cracker and swallowed it. He heard the banshee howling. He aimed straight for the sound, cocked the gun, and pulled the trigger.

All sound stopped. All motion ceased as well. The bullet had hit its mark. Only four fish remained.

The world reset itself. He was no longer on top a high tower. Now he stood on a rain-drenched city street. People milled all around. A difficult setting, to be sure. He sat down on a bus stop bench and cocked the pistol he found in his hand. He shook his head to clear away the dizziness he was still feeling from the sudden change of scenery.

Four fish sat in his other hand. He set down three of them. He ate the fourth without any hesitation, then shot as soon as he heard a sound. The bullet sang through the air and hit its mark before he even took a breath.

Three fish to go. He was in a jungle, high up a tree. Lions were circling below him. He ate the third fish, and heard the wailing banshee over the roaring of the lions. This time, he didn’t kill it right away. He let it move closer. He deployed a grenade, taking out the banshee and a couple of the lions as well.

Two fish left. He was in a prison, a shank hidden in his hand. When he ate the fish, a guard turned on him, its face a grisly white as it let out a loud wail. Surging forward, he stabbed the creature until the wailing ceased.

One last fish. He was on a sandy beach. The sweat upon his brow had nothing to do with the sun. He lay back on the sand as he realized he had no weapon this time. He set the fish between his teeth, but didn’t chew or swallow.

“You’re being childish, Stanley,” a voice wailed. “You knew this time would come. You’ll have to eat the fish, and when you do I’ll be right here waiting.”

“Have you ever watched a sunset?” asked Stanley of the creature as he removed the fish long enough to speak.

“No, I don’t suppose I have,” the thing commented. It sat upon the sand, and then lay down as well, staring out at the pounding surf.

“Your word, banshee, that my wife and son will truly be safe after this,” said Stanley as he stared at it, hard.

“A bargain is a bargain, Stanley,” it replied. “You’re missing the best part.”

“No, I’m not,” he answered, the fish poised above his lips again. “The best is yet to come.”

When Stanley ate the last fish, the banshee wailed again. A coach appeared in the night sky, and he stepped into it without fear. At the last moment, he grabbed the banshee’s arm and dragged it in as well, then rolled free of the vehicle with a gleeful laugh.

“I defeated them all,” he crowed happily. He was standing just outside his home. It had never burnt down. He stepped inside and saw his wife and their young son laughing merrily.

“You’re late, Stanley,” she chided him. “He’s just taken his first steps.”

“That’s great, honey,” he told her. “And I’m certain there are many more to come.”

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