There is something relaxing, something of a verisimilitude in fishing.
To me there's no greater joy than to just sit under the moon and stare at my fishing line, bobbing in the water. Catching perch, pike - pure heaven.
That was, of course, back when I only caught fish.
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The change came on slowly, at first. Maybe instead of some chub or trout I'd pull up an old boot or a tire. It seemed so cliche. A boot? Really?
I thought that sort of thing only happened in comics or movies, but I passed it off as a fluke and kept on fishing, my mind untroubled.
Then the flow of weird items increased. I'd feel a slight tug on my line and then the steady pull of the thing's weight, and up it would come. I hardly caught fish anymore, it was just driftwood, clothes, shoes, tires, things.
One time I caught something too heavy and I couldn't pull it up. It was about then that I started to think that it was someone screwing with me.
It wasn't rational at all, but that's what I thought. I began to shun that lake, began to go fishing less and less, moved away eventually.
I came back, eventually. Arkadina took me back to the estate to visit her dying brother, and while I was there staying with Peter, I had the dream.
I saw her. I can't explain it.
Her hair was seaweed, her eyes pearls, her skin a gentle tone of blue.
I loved her at first glance.
I fish every day now, down at the lake, hoping for a glimpse of a strand of seaweed, a glint of a pearly eye, waiting for the current that will capsize the boat and send me down to be with her forever.
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