A skeptical fisherman ignores an old Virginia warning and spends every Sunday fishing a river where the fish are said to honor the Sabbath. But when he hooks a strange singing creature unlike anything he’s ever seen, his good fortune turns into a terrifying lesson in one of Virginia’s most unforgettable pieces of folklore.

Audio Story

Up in central Virginia, there’s a particular river known to be chock-full of bass and trout.  For generations, locals have been fishing up and down that river, pulling out buckets of fish.  But there’s one day when the fish don’t bite at all, and that’s Sunday.  For even the fish seem to know Sunday is the Lord’s day.

But that didn’t matter to a young man named, of all things, Moses.  Despite his name, Moses wasn’t much of a churchgoing man.  He figured with all the other fishermen at church on Sunday morning, he’d have that whole river to himself.

His friends laughed at him.  “Moses,” they said, “you ain’t gonna catch nothin’ in that river on Sunday!”

Despite their protestations, Moses continued pulling out loads of fish each Sunday morning.  His friends were quite agitated – and more than a little jealous.  But they still tried to warn him.  “Moses, you know it’s bad luck to fish on Sunday.  Those fish are gonna make you sick if you eat ‘em!”

But Moses ate those fish with no issues.  In fact, he felt healthier and stronger than ever.

Now the young folks admired Moses.  He proved to them that the old folks had beliefs that were silly and out of touch.  But the older folks still warned Moses nothing good could come from fishing that river on Sunday.  Even the preacher himself warned Moses, but he just laughed it off.

But one particular Sunday, Moses sat on the riverbank for hours without a single bite.  He was about to give up when he felt a slight tug on his line.  That turned into a forceful yank.  Moses struggled to pull that big fish out of the water, salivating at the thought of what was on the other end of that hook.  He’d probably eat like a king!  He huffed and strained, and finally yanked that big critter onto the riverbank and flipped it over.

He could not believe his eyes – this was an animal unlike anything he’d ever seen.  It had a fishtail, but wings like a buzzard and the head of a small gator.  But most disturbingly, it could talk like a human! 

Hello, Moses!

Moses dropped all his fishing gear and ran home.  But he could hear that awful critter calling after him in a sing-songy voice:

Come back, Moses!

Come back, Moses!

Something about that voice pulled him back against his every inclination.  The critter then sang again:

Pick me up, Moses.

Pick me up, Moses.

Moses picked that slimy, stinky critter off the ground.  The critter sang again:

Carry me home, Moses.

Carry me home, Moses.

So Moses carried him home, hypnotized by its voice.  As they entered the kitchen, the critter sang:

Clean and cook me, Moses.

Clean and cook me, Moses.

So Moses cleaned him and threw him in a pot.  All the time thinking, maybe when he was cooking in the pot that god awful singing would stop!  But no such luck, for when the critter was fully cooked it started singing again:

Now take me out, Moses.

Take me out, Moses.

Moses took it out of the pot and it sang:

Eat me, Moses,

Eat me, Moses.

Now by this time, Moses didn’t have much of an appetite.  After all, would you want to eat a gator-buzzard-fish combo?  But that voice made him do strange things.  So he grabbed a plate, some salt and pepper, sat at the table and took a couple of bites.  That critter didn’t taste like no trout, it had a sour and spoiled tang to it.  Moses almost lost his stomach all over the floor.  But that critter kept singing, this time louder and more commanding:

Eat all of me, Moses!

Eat all of me, Moses!

So Moses ate that whole critter, including the head!

A few minutes later, as church was letting out up the road, the congregation heard painful cries coming from the direction of Moses’s house.  They grabbed the preacher, who just shook his head.  “I told him only wickedness could come from fishing’ on Sundays.  That’s what the Bible says!”

The preacher and his congregants hurried down to the house.   Just in time to see Moses burst out the door.  He collapsed to the ground and rolled around in the dirt, howling in agony.  His belly had swollen like he was about to give birth, and was growing bigger and bigger.  His stomach then burst open and that horrible creature, whole and alive, popped out and slid back to the river singing:

Don’t fish on Sundays, Moses!

Don’t fish on Sundays.

It vanished into the black water, and was never seen again.  Moses died right there on the riverbank and was buried in the local cemetery.

Now, I could tell you exactly where this river is, but I won’t.  Believe me, it’s a real place, with a real town built all around it.  Mostly because I don’t want you going up there and taking my favorite fishing spot.  But also because, you just don’t know if that critter’s ever going to come back.  But if you do find that river, do yourself a favor – don’t fish on Sunday!

-THE END-

Story Credits

Adapted from folklore and directed by Craig Dominey

Storyteller: Veronica Byrd

Audio Production by Henry Howard