The Day's Catch

In his spare time, Paul was a fisherman.  "Killing fish" was how he put it.  Paul thought that was hilarious.

Today was no exception.  With his gear and lunch in the car, he got underway early.

Not liking to share fishing with others, Paul drove North to get away from the city, heading up into a deserted part of the state.  The only buildings for the last half hour were falling or burned down shells.  An abandoned road guarded by overgrown bushes was the final turn.

A half mile in was Dark Pond, a successful spot in the past.  The name was particularly appropriate this day.  A darkening sky and thickening undergrowth combined to the point where it seemed night was coming on when it was only 10:00 AM.

The water was smooth as glass.  Paul couldn't make out an individual cloud reflecting in the Pond, which was a dark slate grey.

Good, he thought.  The fish won't see me as well, forgetting that the poor light would work the same in reverse.

Paul got into his waders, and started working the shoreline.  There were a few nibbles from small feeder fish, blue gills and crappies, that always hung out in the shallows.  Far fewer then the last time he fished here though.  He moved on looking for bigger game.

It wasn't long before he found himself in water with no sign of the bait fish.  That was an interesting phenomena.  Maybe some new breed was thinning out the smaller fish.

Paul knew how predator fish worked, so he shouldn't have been surprised when one that saw him as bait snuck up through the dark water and sunk his teeth in.  There was a downside to going to a lonely pond.  There was no one to hear his screams.