The Lucky Fish
Fish Aren’t the Only thing that waits in the Depths of the Lake
At 15, Jim was the oldest of 5 children; he was different than the others and satisfied with that distinction.
He loved fishing and had a small aluminium rowboat with an outboard motor at his parent’s cabin on Bruce lake near Kewanna, Indiana.
Jim liked to fish at night, very late when no one else was awake,
He felt the quiet of the lake very comforting; also, the fishing was or could be very lively at this time.
One night, when everyone was asleep, Jim got ready and, with ghost-like steps, was out the door to his waiting boat, rowing it
quietly from the pier until he was far enough to start the little outboard motor without waking anyone.
So he went across the small lake to his favorite spot. Stopping near the Lilly pads close to the shore on the opposite side of the lake.
The sound of the lake was eerily quiet other than the interruption of the occasional chirping of crickets and croaking of bullfrogs.
The night air had a slight chill, cold enough for a light jacket but not uncomfortable since the wind only crept over the otherwise calm lake. Jim quietly positioned his boat near the lily pads and put down the anchors. He started casting his lure, reeling and hoping for a strike.
On his third attempt, a loud explosion on the water near the end of Jim’s cast occurred, “I got one!” he said to himself. Fighting this fish for three minutes seemed like 20! The largemouth bass tangled himself around those darn lily pads!
“Am I going to lose this fish because of this clever escape plan?” Jim thought to himself — “NO WAY!” The water’s only four feet deep in this area, so he pulled up anchors, rowed over to the tangled mess, and jumped in the lake! He walked over to the lively swimming fish and started to grab the line when a hole opened where he was standing. Suddenly Jim was treading water to stay afloat when —
something grabbed his ankle with a strong grip and pulled him under; he screamed, taking in some water, but no one could hear him underwater.
Quickly descending, down, down, but those few seconds seemed like slow motion.
As Jim felt his body rushing through the hole, he stretched out his arms, catching the lake bottom, wildly kicking his legs; a shoe came off, and whatever grabbed his leg lost its grip.
Kicking and swimming as fast as possible, Jim was at the water’s surface and moved quickly to the boat, scrambled over the edge, and landed at the bottom of the boat. From the awful stench, he feared his attacker had followed him. It wasn’t a fish smell, much more pungent like rotten meat as a cadaver smells
Getting up, His heart pounded quickly, and Jim could hardly catch his breath but hurried home, forgetting about the fish and his fishing rod.
The next morning Jim’s dad asked: “Did you get in a fight?” pointing to Jim’s ankle. Jim looked down and saw a bruise, the outline of 4 fingers, and a thumb around his ankle!
