Mark enjoyed his weekends fishing. The weeks just seemed to get longer. At 50, he was feeling older. Weighing 350 lbs didn’t help. But every weekend he took his same old John boat to the same old quiet lake and just wasted his day away fishing. He didn’t even catch much. He just liked the piece of it all. A few sandwiches, a sixer of beer, and a pack of Marlboros, and plenty of piece and quiet.
Today has been especially quiet, and he found himself trying to doze off. He eventually gave in, and as a few clouds covered the sun he drifted to sleep.
Mark awoke to the slight jarring of his small boat hitting land. He looked around startled. It was dusk now, and he realized he must’ve slept for 5 hours.
“Huh… where am I? I don’t recognize this area at all,” he said, stroking his long gray and brown beard.
He climbed off the boat and lit a cigarette, exhaling into the early evening sky. He looked at the odd plants on the ground just off of the beach area. He placed his cigarette between his lips and let it dangle, and got down on his hands and knees to examine the flora.
“I’ll be damned. These are the smallest trees I’ve ever seen,” Mark said aloud, the cigarette bobbing up and down. He stood back up, the trees barely coming up to his calf.
Ahead in the distance he could see small lights on the ground, which he first assumed were fireflies. But they were stationary, so he honestly wasn’t sure what they were. He decided to make his way to the lights. As he got closer he moved slowly and deliberately, until his eyes made out something he couldn’t believe. It was a small house. It has a drive way that lead to what appeared to be a small road, which stretched out in either direction. As he looked down the road to the left he could make out more lights belonging to more tiny houses.
“What the hell? You’d have to be an inch tall to live in these houses,” Mark chuckled to himself. He must’ve stumbled upon a large model of a miniature town someone had built. But he still had no clue where he actually was.
Mark took a final drag off of his cigarette, carefully flicking it away from the small house and made his way back to his boat. He cracked open a beer and ate his last sandwich deciding what to do next.
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.08 seconds at 2:24am on Nov 19, 2024 via server WEBX1.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author