DESCRIPTION
'they're' is intentional. I am striving for a three-dimensional quality to my writing. The rules of grammar are not always adhered to. [595 words]
The beat spoon fluttered in amber water, flashing chromate Morse code. Samuel thought on the mechanism, or reason, used to pound the organ into a laborer. The day began poorly. He could not shit. He had been rushed in the morning; this broke momentum and his bowels lay thick inside. He fasted through the day and into evening, so when the sun began to fall he was well and healed, and saw the good in things. He felt the roll of time unraveling and experience evaporate into memory like the monofilament reeling off into darkness. K. wanted once, with the aging day, to catch one last fish before we left, always sad returning to the mechanism, to temper the sharpness of our departure. The last fish is fought and landed only in daydreams. A snag interrupts her plans. I want to show my father our life. Bring him here to the lake my wife and I have discovered. I think of showing him what I have learned myself through trial and study. I am seeing large beautiful fish. He stood happy on the deck of his boat, the mechanism at bay. I road with him to the hospital, he lay delirious, incoherent. We worked the snag and I, surviving, lost my hold on the man. Fishing became more important after the interruption. Why? Catching fish fulfills? My father, I guess now, wanted what I desire – gave me the curse for what I long for: autonomy. Out under the thick sky, over lapping black waters the rushing world has left me alone and I believe that I may be happy, free. Again a snag and suddenly I wonder why gear has to cost so much and why we must pay for everything. I have proven inextricable against the deep rolling tides of molasses, Of melancholy given with tepid ritual. I only desire righteousness, the worded birth right Or loose fitting roles consumed with consumption. The land abutts a revision of holiness. ‘I carry the blade further.’ Bodies strewn as tinker toys, awash in personality stained blue. Further studies have proven the authority correct – thankfully we may trust they’re intentions. The fish slid up, aerating the content. The rock lips out over the reflecting surface; deep beneath, eighteen feet. Here I came with light gear, worms and minnows; I bring a basket for the dinner’s repose. Looking south the sun fans its high across the channel. From my berth I see the star's hike through all points of day. Two-pound test threads the swivel's eye; I knot unorthodox. (Get out of the deep.) The water glistens metaphor like. I baitfish because I remain a child. Once, dreaming of the monster at the lake’s bottom motivated. Now fear rides inspired. The pole bows good, I set, the bluegill bulldozes. Nine inches. I need four or five that size for dinner. I throw the fish into the basket, the basket into the water. I bring two poles; the other baited with three-inch shiners. The Crappie suspend here. The current breaks and pools just three feet of me drawing Walleye. Typically I will bait the minnow first, as strikes are less frequent. This evening the worm fell first and busied me. I came here to be by myself – to feel free to be myself. So I fished and I thought many things into the water. Imaging the floor, pebbles, fashioned stones rolling. The utter darkness of night. So dark I became fearful thinking too hard on it. I purchased this land and fished it. I paid for quiet and autonomy. I became an American with the rite. This, is my land.
READER'S REVIEWS (4) DISCLAIMER: STORYMANIA DOES NOT PROVIDE AND IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR REVIEWS. ALL REVIEWS ARE PROVIDED BY NON-ASSOCIATED VISITORS, REGARDLESS OF THE WAY THEY CALL THEMSELVES.
"Good job, I liked it. You're a natural." -- Kimberly De Liz.
"The search for autonomy is neverending. The cycle of life does not allow for it. We live, we die, we are reborn..never autonomous. You will be reunited with that which you seek during the cycle." -- Rbokie24, L-Town.
"what?" -- olef.
"I dunno. It sounded cool when I wrote it several months ago....it must be the water here in Detroit." -- Rbokie24.
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