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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2201914
Rated: E · Short Story · Contest Entry · #2201914
Old men really have seen everything.
Fisherman’s Tale

(Word Count 299)



The old man sat on the riverbank, three rods tight lined into the current, trying his luck on a warm summer day.

Two young girls came scrambling along the trail leading to his “secret” spot. “Hello, Angie. Come for another fishing lesson?”

“Hey, Sam,” the blonde girl leading the way replied. “This is my friend Terra, she has a question for you.”

“Well, any friend of Angie’s…! Ok, Terra, shoot.”

The new girl hesitated, then asked, in a thick, Refugee’s accent, “Where were you when it happened?” Her huge eyes locked on him.

“I was sitting right here.” Sam’s hand hovered over a pole as it trembled slightly, then he continued. “I heard it before I saw it. Sounded like a pot coming to the boil. And then suddenly, the sky was indeed boiling.”

“Were you scared?” Angie asked, rapt in the story she’d heard before.

“Nope!” Sam replied with an old man’s stoicism. “Nothing to do about it. Couldn’t out run it. No place to hide. Besides, it was an awesome sight, until it hit and shock wave struck me.”

“Did it hurt?” Terra’s saucer shaped eyes filling with tears.

“Well, the explosion picked me up and threw me high onto the bank.” He indicated a spot on the erosion wall, thirty feet away. “I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt. But, look what it did for my view.”

Across the river a gigantic, triangle shaped spacecraft jutted, half buried, from the river bottoms. “Everything changed that day.”

“I’m sorry,” Terra whispered.

Sam laid a hand on her head and gently smoothed her bright purple quills, then wiped a tear from her indigo cheek and said, “Not your fault young’un. We were all very lucky that day. Now...these fish aren't going to catch themselves."
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2201914