Running behind today. Just had a hard time getting out of bed. Still, it is time to start the day, so off we go to the morning writing prompt. Set those timers and let’s get this day started.
Not bad. I really liked this little snippet actually. I threw too much into the fifteen minutes so a story would have to pick it apart a little, spread it out and fill in some of the gaps, but I like it.
Wednesday, May 11th: The fish flopped onto the dock.
The fish flopped on the dock. For a second he stared at it in shock. He had never managed to catch anything before. The light glinted off the slivery scales and he lifted the line, hauling the fish from the dock into the air.
It was heavy. Somehow he always thought fish were light.
His hand trembled and he reached out a second to help support the weight. He tucked the rod under his arm and worked the hook loose from the fish’s mouth. He hooked it onto the rod so it wouldn’t swing free and catch someone just the way his grandfather had shown him. He then shouldered the rod and carrying the fish as though he was a sommelier about to present a bottle of wine, he carried it from the dock and up the dirt path to the cabin.
The cabin was a recent purchase. It hadn’t been his idea, but Maria’s. He had in fact never spent much time in it before this week. He always made excuses not to go, fearful of the memories such a place would raise within him.
He did not have the best memories of time spent in lake side cabins.
This week when the world crumbled and an escape was needed, it was there and he took it as his best option. He considered it a sort of personal penance. Old mad memories rising up to join the new bad memories already forming.
Considering them as new memories was something he thought optimistic of him. It assumed he would survive this.
However this cabin was unlike the one form his past. This was luxurious and had all the amenities of a regular house. In fact it was a house. It had simply been clad with faux logging on the exterior to make it look like an overgrown cabin. The cabin from his memories was smaller. One large room with a bedroom and bath tcked on for the adults and a loft upstairs for the kids. As kids they were expected to use the outhouse rather than the bathroom. It was considered an adventure.
He still had nightmares about the outhouse if he thought about it too long.
The goal was to catch fish, eat the fish and use it as a bonding experience. He never managed to catch a fish, was teased for his complete ineptitude and then had to eat the fish others caught. Each bite tasted like inadequacy. I fact because of his lake side experiences it took him years before he could order any fish dish off a restaurant menu without feeling a wave of self-defeating despair.
Now he caught a fish.
He stopped at the back door to the house, hand poised on the handle. He never told anyone about those experiences and Maria would not understand. He looked at the fish and began to laugh. Now, as his entire world was crumbling he finally managed to catch a fish. The despair from before faded and he felt a bubble of hope start to swim through him. He caught a fish. Anything was possible.
Ten til Midnight 