The Catch

The sun, hidden behind fluffs of clouds;
the lake, as calm as can be.
Smooth as glass.  An eerie
stillness.

What mysteries, what secrets,
lie beneath its murky black surface?

A boy fishes from the dock, barefoot.
Throws his line into the blackness, casting ripples
across the lake. Patiently he waits,
thirsting for the catch.

Soon, movement beneath the water. A tug on his hook.

The boy stands, reeling in his catch.

A tug of war--man versus nature;
a short struggle--predator versus prey;
balance is lost--grace versus gravity;
limbs flailing--gravity the victor--

A splash disturbs the stillness.

The water closes over the boy's head
like a liquid casket.

Who is the catch now?

The blackness seems to darken further.
Bubbles break the surface: the boy is screaming
but no sound is heard.

There are no more bubbles,

no more ripples.

All is still.
Quiet. 
Calm.

The sun gleams through fluffy clouds;
the lake as calm as can be.
Smooth as glass. An eerie
stillness.

What mysteries, what secrets,
lie beneath its murky black surface? 

The End

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