‘The Station and the Eel-Catcher’ is an original story set in the same story-world as Cottonopolis, by SF Layzell. This story was written for Ely Pride 2025.
Mary shivered as she stepped down to the water’s edge to check her trap. Though it was not long past midsummer, it was another bitterly cold year. The corn in the fields was stumpy and weak, and the mist clung to the fenland surrounding the fields, lending them an evil and foreboding air. More than one barn bore burn marks left by angry workers.
Over on the other side of the water, the final preparations for the grand opening of the railway were in full swing. The brand new station building could be seen for miles around, a squat neighbour for the grand ancient cathedral. Much had been made of its Italian-style towers and fashionable classical design.
For many months, the sound of workers had followed her along the river, a mix of different Irish and English accents belonging to those who laid the tracks. There had been some accidents, she had heard, the price of progress. Though their life seemed hard, Mary wished that she could have been working amongst them. She wished often that she had been born a boy.
Now the track was complete, all the way from Ely to London, and the station was finally ready to open. Her friend Jasper was apprenticed to a basket weaver and was full of excitement about the possibilities of having much more work, or even selling his wares down in London one day.
Baskets would sell. Eels, too, Mary thought. She wondered how many eels she would need to sell to be able to live by herself and go on adventures and do exactly as she pleased.
She was a good eel-catcher, skilled and lucky. But today, her luck had changed. Inside her trap was nothing except one tiny eel.
The trap was baited and corked shut at one end and left open at the other, with the willow bent inwards so that an eel could easily swim in, but could not swim back out again. Mary pulled out the cork and grabbed the wriggling eel inside. She was busy scowling at her meagre catch when suddenly it began to speak.
“I am a magic eel,” it said. “I can grant wishes. Please set me free.”
Mary was so surprised she could not reply, but she did as the eel asked and set it down in the water. It slithered through her fingers and swam away. She placed her basket down in the river again, checking the bait and securing the trap with a length of rope around a nearby willow tree.
The next day was the grand opening of the station. Mary wandered down by the fields with the stumpy corn and the burnt barns and crossed the river to take in the sights. A small crowd clustered around the new station building, cheering with delight at the sound of a steam engine firing up.
Mary found Jasper and told him about the eel. “You should have made a wish,” he said. “What is it you want?”
She knew what her wish would be, but did not want to say it aloud in case Jasper laughed at her. “For us to have adventures,” she said eventually.
“I’ll go adventuring with you anytime,” Jasper said, grinning.
Mary looked around at the crowd. She suddenly felt a deep discomfort eating at her bones.
“I’m going to go check the trap,” she said to Jasper, who nodded and followed her.
Down by the willow tree on the other side of the river, the trap once more hosted nothing except one tiny eel. “It’s you again,” it said, as Mary uncorked the trap and reached inside.
Mary got very close to the eel and whispered her wish.
“You will find in time that you already have everything you most desire,” the eel said. “But I will grant your wish, so long as you let me go.”
It flicked its tail and once again slithered through her fingers and back into the water.
When Mary looked up, Jasper’s eyes were wide. She looked back down at the river and saw their reflections. Standing next to Jasper was a boy with a familiar face.
The boy in the water patted himself down, feeling the fit of his clothes and admiring his own short hair. He felt in his pockets and pulled out a piece of paper. Two railway tickets from Ely to London.
It was time for an adventure.