Thursday March 7, 2013
The Marvelous Land of Oz
Silas didn’t know the answer to the question as to how Jack drowned. What he did know was this. They’d gone out fishing just after sunrise, somewhere around six fifteen. Jack brought live bait and Silas brought lures. Every man has their own style, no judgement there. Silas paddled the boat out, as to not disturb the sleeping trout, and Jack got impatient. “It’s gonna take us til tomorrow morning to get out to the middle of the lake!” He hissed. Silas “shh-ed” Jack and kept paddling. They didn’t talk much, they never talked much. Must’ve been half passed eight when Jack got his first bite, the first bite of the day, actually. It was a big one, his line bending and his arms getting pulled. Silas backed him up. Out they pulled a twenty-six pounder, the biggest fish either men had ever caught. She was slip-slapping all over the bottom of the boat, the hook still caught in her mouth, blood starting to stain the wood finish. “Take out that hook,” said Silas. “Let’s let her suffer a bit, eh?” Jack replied, rolling a cigarette. “Why the hell would you do that?” asked Silas. He watched the fish struggle, watched her gills dance and glitter in the new day sunlight. Jack closed his eyes and leaned back, not a care in the world. Silas took a hammer from his toolkit. He hit the fish between the eyes. She stopped squirming.