The Marlin

If only she could hook him…

She wanted a marlin. Nothing else would do. A marlin would give her all the glory that she felt she deserved, if only she could land one.

She had gone on fishing expeditions several times before, but the big guys she had captured weren’t impressive enough for her. She ate them anyway, tossing their bones into the trash.

She had to try gain.

She chartered a larger boat, and headed into deeper waters. The surf was rough, but she was undaunted, She knew that that the largest ones ran in these circles, and they were hard to find. With her keen ways, she was confident that she could be successful.

The flashy lure that she used was a rare one. She attached it carefully and cast her line out into the choppy waters. The foam of the waves spit at her, the surf doing its best to get her off balance. So she sat down in the chair and strapped herself in, ready for the fight, keeping her eyes on the horizon so she wouldn’t lose her focus.

Then, she waited. After an hour she was growing impatient, when suddenly, her line zipped forward.

The ebb and flow of her arms showed visible progress, as she tried to drag him in, until he hurled himself out of the water, his sharp sword thrashing to and fro as he tried to slice himself free.

But her hook was deep. She wouldn’t let him get away that easily.

Back and forth they fought, the communion of their dance vicious as she gave in a bit, only to yank him closer to the boat. His rainbow torso shimmered in the sunlight as his mouth snapped at the line. Closer and closer he came, until he was within reach.

With her friend’s help, she hooked and hauled him into the boat, his wild eyes glaring at her, as he gasped for air. He was much larger than she had imagined. She gloated with victory.

She would soon be the envy of the neighborhood when she had him stuffed and displayed over her mantle, its cold carcass staring down at her in disbelief.

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