The fish had a different version of events.
A Quiet Evening
Sam had been waiting beside the lake long enough to name three ducks and lose track of which one was which.
The sun was sinking behind the trees, and his friend Tom was farther along the bank, packing away his fishing things.
“Any luck?” Tom called.
“Not yet,” Sam said. “But I’ve had a very pleasant conversation with the ducks.”
“Did they answer?”
“Not about fishing.”
Sam cast his line once more. The little lure caught the last of the sunlight before landing with a soft plop. Rings spread across the water, then disappeared.
He settled back and watched the surface. It was, he thought, a perfectly quiet evening.
Below the surface, a fish was inspecting something shiny.
Something Shiny
The fish approached the lure from one side, then the other. It flashed gold when it turned. Whatever it was, it had arrived without a sound and seemed worth a closer look.
Sam felt a tug.
He sat up. The line pulled again, stronger this time.
“Tom!” he called. “I think I’ve got one.”
Tom put down his bag and hurried over. Sam lifted the rod carefully, guiding the fish towards the bank.
The water broke in a burst of silver and gold. For one brief moment, Sam caught sight of the fish twisting at the end of the line.
He grinned. “Now, that’s a story.”
The fish appeared to have some objections to the opening chapter.
The Fish Has an Opinion
Sam brought the fish close enough to reach. It flicked its tail, sending a spray of lake water across his sleeve.
“That’s one way to introduce yourself,” Tom said.
Sam kept the fish close to the water and used his pliers to remove the hook. It took a moment; the fish gave another energetic flick, and Sam paused until he could work carefully.
“There you are,” he murmured when the hook came free.
Tom reached for his phone. “Shall I take a picture?”
Sam looked at the fish. Its sides shone in the evening light, and its tail was still moving firmly against his wet hand.
“I think he’d rather get back,” Sam said.
He lowered the fish gently into the shallows. For a second it stayed beside his hand. Then its tail swept through the water.
A splash landed squarely across Sam’s shirt.
The fish vanished beneath the surface.
Evidence on a Wet Shirt
Tom looked from the widening rings to Sam’s damp shirt.
“Did you get a photograph?” he asked.
“No.” Sam inspected the dark patch spreading down his front. “But he left a review.”
Tom laughed and put his phone away. “What do you think he’d say?”
Sam picked up his rod. “Something about the service. Perhaps the unexpected trip into the air.”
“And the ending?”
“He seemed pleased with that part.”
They packed the last of their things as the sun slipped behind the trees. One of the ducks paddled past, leaving a neat trail across the water.
Sam watched it for a moment.
“Is that Gerald?” he asked.
“You called the last one Gerald.”
“Then this might be his brother.”
Tom lifted his bag. “Are you going to ask him?”
Sam looked at his wet sleeve. “I’ve had enough reviews for one evening.”
Livora Gracely ♥
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