Victim #7

There is nothing like fishing on a hot afternoon. I wiped the sweat from my brow and cast the line. I had been out here for quite a long time and I think that  I might need go back soon, because as I floated past the shore I thought I saw two people walking by. Two people people with chunks of each other missing. Two people who were eating each other. When I rubbed my eyes and looked again, they were gone. I decided that I must have heatstroke and that I should go back inside. But not until I had caught something. Suddenly, the line tautened. I grinned and began to reel it in. It was a big one and I was certain that it was a catfish. They grew pretty big this time of year. But it wasn't a catfish, or any other kind of fish. It was a head and it was still moving. I screamed and punched it. I grabbed the paddle and began to hit it. I didn't stop till it was practically a greenish-brownish pulp. I sat down gasping for breath then quickly put it in a bag. Then I looked at my hand. I had scrapped my knuckles on its teeth when I punched it. I put some disinfectant on it and wrapped it in gauze. Then I began to paddle toward the shore. That was enough fishing for today and I needed to show this head to the police. Boy, was I hungry. I was in the mood for something meaty. Something juicy.

The End

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