Thursday photo prompt – Bleak – #writephoto

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The angler sits squinting over the lake. This is the largest lake in England and should hold the promise of some great  sport. Fifty yards in front of the concrete shelter in which he sits, a day-glo orange point of reflected sunlight shows where his float is sitting motionless on the water. Suddenly the coloured tip bobs below the surface and almost instantly returns to its upright position. Then it disappears completely with hardly a ripple to show where it once sat. Unhurriedly he slowly takes up the rod and with calm, collected movement he raises the rod tip, exposing the float with tight line leading  down into the water. As the float rises into the air the line is performing a frenzied dance, pirouetting, describing arcs and performing tight figures of eight. Now he straightens the rod so the tip is vertical and holding it firmy in his left hand, with his right hand he grasps the almost invisible line and slowly pulls it into the bank, at the same time raising his arm until a tiny, silver, dangling fish is exposed, as though balanced on its tail on the surface of the water. A bleak, one of the smallest fish found living in fresh water. He gently pulls the fish to the bank and with a shake the bait falls from the fishes mouth and the fish is unhooked. The shiny silver sliver rests in the palm of his hand for a few minutes to alleviate any stress and then he gently places it back onto the surface. He releases his hold to let it swim freely back down to the murky depths, having suffered no harm, only the loss of an easy meal. He then takes his position once more, settled in his seat hoping for a repeat performance but with a much more substantial catch.

9 Comments

Filed under Flash fiction, Self compositions, Uncategorized

9 responses to “Thursday photo prompt – Bleak – #writephoto

  1. From your description, you sound like an angler, Bobby. My younger son tells such tales.

    Liked by 1 person

    • sadly, I now feel that i can no longer justify the possibility of pain when the hook enters the fish so i have given up a pastime I enjoyed a lot.

      Liked by 1 person

      • My son is now facing the same internal debate. The other side of that story is that by being out in the silence of the land, getting to know and love it, learning the ways of the waterbirds and small creatures, taught him respect for Nature. He has always cleaned up after careless anglers, ever since he was a child.
        Without fishing, would he have found that level of respect and conscience?
        For myself, I always disapproved of drowning maggots.

        Like

  2. Lovely descriptions, almost like an English Hemingway ‘The Old Man and The Sea’.

    Like

  3. Pingback: Bleak – Bobby Fairfield – #writephoto | Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

  4. Pingback: Photo prompt round-up – Bleak – #writephoto | Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

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