The Fisherman

Jason Lynch squinted in the afternoon sun, his gaze fixed on the tranquil lake. He cast his line out and watched it flutter in the wind and settle on the water.

He said, “Today is the day. I ain’t leavin’ till I catch ya.”

He was referring to the big one around these parts known as Clementine. She is a legend, the biggest fish ever to grace this lake. Around here, catching Clementine was more than a sporting achievement; it was a badge of honor, a mark of respect.

The hours passed by with no activity, not a single bite. Jason couldn’t find the key despite using the same bait and gear and copying the successful fishermen around him. His patience wore thin, and the fish remained elusive.

Across the lake, his rival, Harry Peterson, grinning ear to ear with a bucket full of fish. “Maybe you’ll catch a cold before you reel her in! Give it up, Lynch!”

Ignoring the taunts, Jason kept his eyes on the line. Suddenly, his rod began to jerk. Lightly, then strengthening until his boat moved, water lapping over the edges. This wasn’t Clementine. This was something else. Something much bigger.

Harry’s laughter abruptly stopped as he noticed the chaos from across the water. He sprang into action.

He quickly navigated his motorboat over to Jason, dispensing any rivalry as he clambered on board, grabbing the fishing rod to lend strength. The boat rocked violently and started to bring in more water. Then the line snapped, and they fell backward, their laughter echoing across the lake.

“Thanks for the help,” Jason said as he reached into a cooler and offered Harry a cold one. He accepted with a nod.

“You’re one heck of a fisherman,” Harry acknowledged.

“Wanna try again tomorrow? It seems like there’s a new fish in town.”

“Sounds good,” Jason agreed, clinking his bottle against Harry’s, a twinkle of anticipation in their eyes.