Fishing in Mid-summer | Teen Ink

Fishing in Mid-summer

August 19, 2013
By ChristineK GOLD, SLC, Utah
ChristineK GOLD, SLC, Utah
17 articles 3 photos 20 comments

Favorite Quote:
“So the future seemed
To mingle with the past. For a short space
I saw revealed to the doubt the threads that bind
This little speck of time we call “To-day”
To the great cycle of unending life
That has been and that shall be evermore.”

Walter sat on the river bank loosely holding a fishing pole in his right hand. He lounged sleepily against a fallen tree, his yellow-straw hat drooping over his face. His chest moved slowly up and down, the rivers soft trickle easing him into a deep slumber. The heat warmed his dreams, melting them into slow-easy whispers.

Suddenly, Walter lurched forward. His eyes widened with fear as his fishing pole began to wriggle itself out of his hand. With fearful excitement, Walter’s hand gripped the pole and pulled backward, his heart anticipating a wholesome catch. His eyes searched eagerly for the fish, barely capturing its silky-body trying to escape from its fatal trap.

With all of his might, Walter thrust every inch of his body into the pole. The fish jumped further into the river’s rushing waves, forcing Walter to run along the muddy shore. Walter gasped as the fish wriggled free, pulling him into the rivers icy depths. The water’s soft current overwhelmed him, the fishing pole flying from his hand.

Walter yelped for help, his smooth face creased with an anxious fear. The water filled his mouth, tossing him to-and-fro. His lungs began to fill with the water’s pure-swamp-like water, sending chills running down Walter’s spine as it gradually grew cooler.

All seemed hopeless. Walter tried to grab at branches passing him in a swirling blur. His hands grasped at slimy boulders, only to easily slip off their mossy surfaces. He began to sink further and further into the rivers body. His eyes were forced shut by the waters increasing current, his mind blanking into a steady blackness. He began to think he was dreaming, slipping into a distant land, when a foreign grasp clutched the collar of his shirt and wrenched him into the midsummer’s warm air.

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