The secluded lake, nestled in the middle of a quiet forest, was surrounded on all sides by steep hills covered in towering, dark evergreens. Next to one of the shorelines a small clearing was home to an old but cozy looking shack. White smoke billowed softly from its crooked chimney. The creaky wood door opened and a short and round man stepped out from inside.
He wore a faded red plaid shirt that was tucked tightly into his jeans, which were held up by suspenders and pulled high above his belly button. He waddled down the small hill to the shoreline with the excitement of a child. His arms stuck out from his sides as he walked, holding a small fishing rod in one hand, and a old tackle box full of jumbling lures in the other. He reached the lakefront and witnessed the reflection of the sun shimmering on the
surface of the lake. He stopped short of the beach, closing his eyes and breathing deeply through his nose to smell the fresh water. He exhaled quickly, smiling with pursed lips.
He reached the small wooden boat that was beached on the soft sand. He clumsily dropped his rod and tackle box into the bow of the boat and pushed it into the lake. He struggled as he quickly swung his stubby legs over the side of the boat. His round body followed as he tumbled into the boat, hitting the bottom hard. He laughed as he got up, picking up his
canvas fishing hat and placing it crookedly a top his bald, shiny head. He grabbed a hand carved wooden ore and began rowing the boat joyfully to his favorite spot on the lake, scanning the tree line and shallow water for wildlife as his drifted along.
He came to a stand still at his destination and pulled out a small bucket filled with loose dirt and small worms. He pulled a worm from the bucket and baited the hook of his rod, wrapping the worm around the end of the hook multiple times. He stood up and drew back his casting arm behind him while holding his other arm straight out in front of him in an attempt to keep his balance in the unstable boat. The boat rocked back and forth a few times while he checked his aim, sticking his tongue out as he did so. He clumsily threw a cast right over his head, nearly capsizing the small vessel. The small, poorly painted white and red bobber plunked onto the surface of the water, causing small ripples to glide along the surface.
He let out a small chortle and pumped his fist shortly in front of himself in triumph. A
good cast, he thought to himself.
He slowly leaned back and thumped back onto the bench, unable to bend forward to sit down gracefully. Letting out a small sigh of contention he reclined back onto the stern of
the small boat holding his fishing pole in between his legs, and pulling his canvas hat over his eyes to shade them from the blazing sun.
The man lounged peacefully in his boat nearly the whole day without so much as a fly disturbing the water near his bobber. The sun was falling faster and faster, nearing the tops of the western trees and threatening to disappear, no longer providing light and warmth for the
lake. A faint splash could be heard and the wooden bobber plunged under the surface of the water causing the man’s pole to rattle and jerk violently. He awoke so suddenly that he nearly tipped the boat over. He grabbed his pole, fumbling it, and began reeling as fast as he could,
the excitement was pouring over him and washing away the tiredness from his face. As he reeled he looked over the side of the boat where his clear fishing line disappeared into the water and saw a quick flash of gold and green scales just below the surface.
“A big one!”he said with childlike excitement.
The large fish finally broke the surface of the water. He reached down into the boat and grabbed a small handmade twine net with his free hand and scooped up the fish. He dropped the net and fish into the boat and it flopped about frantically, splashing droplets of water all
down the front of the man’s pants and shirt. He grabbed his ore and quickly started paddling back to shore, laughing excitedly and congratulating himself on his big catch. He reached the shore and hurriedly pulled the boat onto the sandy beach. He waddled his way back up to the small house as quickly as his stubby legs would carry him, looking forward to the hefty meal he would be enjoying that night and the opportunity to fish again tomorrow.
He wore a faded red plaid shirt that was tucked tightly into his jeans, which were held up by suspenders and pulled high above his belly button. He waddled down the small hill to the shoreline with the excitement of a child. His arms stuck out from his sides as he walked, holding a small fishing rod in one hand, and a old tackle box full of jumbling lures in the other. He reached the lakefront and witnessed the reflection of the sun shimmering on the
surface of the lake. He stopped short of the beach, closing his eyes and breathing deeply through his nose to smell the fresh water. He exhaled quickly, smiling with pursed lips.
He reached the small wooden boat that was beached on the soft sand. He clumsily dropped his rod and tackle box into the bow of the boat and pushed it into the lake. He struggled as he quickly swung his stubby legs over the side of the boat. His round body followed as he tumbled into the boat, hitting the bottom hard. He laughed as he got up, picking up his
canvas fishing hat and placing it crookedly a top his bald, shiny head. He grabbed a hand carved wooden ore and began rowing the boat joyfully to his favorite spot on the lake, scanning the tree line and shallow water for wildlife as his drifted along.
He came to a stand still at his destination and pulled out a small bucket filled with loose dirt and small worms. He pulled a worm from the bucket and baited the hook of his rod, wrapping the worm around the end of the hook multiple times. He stood up and drew back his casting arm behind him while holding his other arm straight out in front of him in an attempt to keep his balance in the unstable boat. The boat rocked back and forth a few times while he checked his aim, sticking his tongue out as he did so. He clumsily threw a cast right over his head, nearly capsizing the small vessel. The small, poorly painted white and red bobber plunked onto the surface of the water, causing small ripples to glide along the surface.
He let out a small chortle and pumped his fist shortly in front of himself in triumph. A
good cast, he thought to himself.
He slowly leaned back and thumped back onto the bench, unable to bend forward to sit down gracefully. Letting out a small sigh of contention he reclined back onto the stern of
the small boat holding his fishing pole in between his legs, and pulling his canvas hat over his eyes to shade them from the blazing sun.
The man lounged peacefully in his boat nearly the whole day without so much as a fly disturbing the water near his bobber. The sun was falling faster and faster, nearing the tops of the western trees and threatening to disappear, no longer providing light and warmth for the
lake. A faint splash could be heard and the wooden bobber plunged under the surface of the water causing the man’s pole to rattle and jerk violently. He awoke so suddenly that he nearly tipped the boat over. He grabbed his pole, fumbling it, and began reeling as fast as he could,
the excitement was pouring over him and washing away the tiredness from his face. As he reeled he looked over the side of the boat where his clear fishing line disappeared into the water and saw a quick flash of gold and green scales just below the surface.
“A big one!”he said with childlike excitement.
The large fish finally broke the surface of the water. He reached down into the boat and grabbed a small handmade twine net with his free hand and scooped up the fish. He dropped the net and fish into the boat and it flopped about frantically, splashing droplets of water all
down the front of the man’s pants and shirt. He grabbed his ore and quickly started paddling back to shore, laughing excitedly and congratulating himself on his big catch. He reached the shore and hurriedly pulled the boat onto the sandy beach. He waddled his way back up to the small house as quickly as his stubby legs would carry him, looking forward to the hefty meal he would be enjoying that night and the opportunity to fish again tomorrow.
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