Fishing For One (part 1)
The sun beat down on Lanah and her boat. The water was cold, she knew, but she wouldn’t put her hand in, didn’t want to disrupt the fish.
She didn’t like fishing. And she hated this lake, especially the taxing row upstream to reach here, even if it was close to her family’s estate. The only times she had tolerated coming here had been on weekends with her grandfather when he’d come here to fish in the mornings. Even then, it didn’t take much effort for memories of red waters and wet ugly cries to sound in her mind when she reached this place. To feel her heart thud when her canoe crossed the spot her parents’ ship had been when they’d gone down fighting water dragons, with many other villagers, to protect their home. And yet, her grandfather had loved this lake, how it opened into the ocean and then the horizon. He’d lost more here than she had, than any of them had, but this remained the place he had come back to most, after home. When he was happy, and when he was sad. Said it was the home they had fought to keep. And, maybe, a long time ago, that’s what it had been, a memory he had died remembering when he told them to pour his ashes here. But the lake was far from a home for Lanah.
Ever since he had passed away, she had been getting on this canoe every morning to come here, and returning to the docks every afternoon. The fish sellers her grandfather worked with saying “good morning miss Jagger” through lisp ridden voices instead of “mornin Jaggy!” The way they used to.
She slapped open the cooler box, taking out a new bait from a small section of the box. Half of the rest was filled with fish she had caught, their silver scales gleaming in the light.
She would take one for her brother, Kai. Her best hope was he was actually taking care of their baby sister and not just playing video games all morning.
He was probably playing video games all morning with Cassie on his lap watching the violence like it was a lit show.
Lanah scoffed a smile, closing the box as she attached the fresh bait to the hook, and in one sweeping motion, dunked it into the water.
Spits of the clear turquoise water splashed onto her. The cold sensation welcome on her hot tan skin.
She checked her watch. Another hour, then she’d leave.
She leaned back against the edge of the boat, the fishing rod’s handle still in her hands. The lake was far from silent. The same insistent sound of exotic birds and flashes of them in the dark green coconut trees as they rustled through the stretch of trees engulfing the waters. Their upper halves lit by the light in shades of emerald and yellow. Their lower halves an entwinement of shadows and darkness and paths that made too much noise when walked on to go unnoticed. The sun seemed to have sat upon its throne right above her, the sight of it in all its glory making her head pulse when she looked up.
She reached for her paddle and rowed a little off center, and as though in approval, a cold breeze grazed her neck and arms.
Finally out of the sun’s power, she leaned back, her hand on the rod tight. Ten minutes. If a fish caught, it would wake her. If one didnt, she’d row further down the creek.
The last thing she saw was the rocky tall planes a few feet under her boat, before she closed her eyes. Hesitant as images of a thunder ridden sky and shadows in the clouds flashed in the back of her mind, fading.
It had only been 4 minutes before she felt the grip of the fishing rod slip from her palm.
Her eyes slammed open at the bristling in her hands. Her grandfather’s rod pulling an inch off her lap. She caught it, her fingers grasping right where his imprints from the years still remained. Her heart slammed fast in her chest as she looked ahead, the water rippled where the string of the rod trembled at its surface. She pulled, fast and hard, and the fish rose in water, caught unexpectedly, before it thrust downwards in resistance. She slammed against the hull, her grip on the rod tightening. Strong one. She told herself, tugging harder but the rod didnt move, both the string and her trembling. Her eyes widened as her knees on the bottom of the boat scraped towards the edge.
Too strong. She had to release it. Her fingers moved fast to lower the bait, let the fish have it. But its grip on the string remained tight. She could not lose this rod. She pulled at it with all her might, and it lifted into the air like a scythe catching the light.
Only a small part of it still in water.
Suddenly, a slow deep rumble erupted through the water, and her boat began to rock, imbalancing her. The clear waters began to get foggy, the ripples making it hard to see into them. And deep down, Lanah caught the swirling shape of a black shadow.
~end of part 1
IMAGE CREDITS: https://www.instagram.com/p/DSIOv-YDOmu/?hl=en&img_index=1
