Fish

Fish
June 22nd, 3055 A.D. I sit here against this ancient weeping willow. Waiting for fish to snag the bait so there will be food tonight. It turns sun down, the air is thick with orange smoke from an unknown destination. It is not unusual to me nor the others, we have all been waiting for this day. Cracks in the earth’s floor deepen as the day grows old. People and animals alike flee for north, maybe they will be safe there. But not me, I stay here waiting for the fish.
I remember the stories of when great structures filled this land. Skyscrapers as the elders called them, but no more stand to this day. Now fires erupt and riots occur throughout the continents. Mother nature begins to die, father time grows impatient. But not me, I will wait here for the fish.
The earth makes sounds as if something beneath the surface was trying to break free. The ground moves slightly, but I know what to expect. The sun is blood red peering through the thick smoke, leaving me nothing but a red silhouette. A lone tear breaks free from my eye, I remember when I wanted to leave, to make a difference. She was the only reason I wanted to make a difference with my life, but now she is gone. I don’t know where she is, maybe she made it up north, a thought I can only hope. She may have made it out with all the others, but she left me. I never pictured life without her, maybe because she was my life. And she left me nothing but a hollow shell. But now I stay here alone, waiting for the fish.
The sun falls slightly every minute, and still no bite. Me and my mother would come down to this creek when I was younger. She would teach me the importance of being patient, maybe that’s why she was so good at fishing. We caught what seemed like hundreds a day, leaving most of them for other lucky fishermen. My mother left for the north a long time ago. And I was left here, waiting for the fish.
The elders described the fall of the buildings as a new beginning. These so called “companies” failed, and everyone was left with nothing. Time went past and people adapted to life without these so called “superstores” and “corporations.” Instead, everyone provided for each other. Villages grew up to about 600 people, and I only knew of a few throughout this land. Each artisan would provide for the community, in exchange for whatever they needed. But me, I wait for the fish.
All of a sudden, my bait has been taken! I quickly reel in the fish, excited over the thought of a good meal tonight. But it is just a small one, no older than 1 month. I gently remove the hook from his mouth and set him free. He is to young to be eaten, and I can wait for the perfect fish.
The sky now makes sounds of thunder, yet there hasn’t been rain in decades. Could this be it? Could this be the last day of life on earth as we know it? Is this the end of the world? It may be to soon to tell, no one exactly knows when. My eyes grow heavy, and the sun has fallen into the horizon that has to grown tired. Now I will make my way back to my cot, for tomorrow is a new day, and this time the fish can wait for me.