You watch the white line disappear into the water. Where did it go? The smell reaches your nose. Not too pleasant. You let the line sit… while you sit. The object of the game is to sit. The sun beats down and the only reasonable way to pass the time is to talk to the least likely person to go fishing. You decide its time to bring the line in. You almost expect it to be a chaotic endeavor. You start reeling and at first it goes nice and smooth, then you feel where it catches. It starts to get tougher and tougher. The top of the pole curves like an archers bow. You realize this an animal fighting for its life. It knows it won’t live much longer. The top of the pole feels like its going to break at this point, its got a crazy curve. You wonder if you’ve caught a whale. You buckle down… in the name of sport? In the name of dinner? Maybe its just an “in the moment” thing. The fish thrashes in the water as you bring it to shore and get ready to seal the deal. You drag it through the sand, it flops in its last moments of life. You stare it in the eye. It stares back. It breathes in air, it chokes. You breath in air, to steady your hand. You plunge your knife in its head and spasms run through its body. You twist the knife, its body stills. Its life has been taken by your hands and now it lays dead in the sand. All you can do now is have gratitude. You sink your knees into the sand… look at the sky. Life and death, just like that. So simple, so fast. Your mind is racing and the only way to quiet your thoughts is to rig up some more bait and cast again.
By: Alex Depavloff