Imagine my surprise when I realized I was going to post a flash fiction piece on a Saturday instead of a Friday!!
I suppose I had the option of skipping the week entirely and banking this one for next week, but I wanted to get it up.
You see, the reason for my tardiness and the inspiration for the story were one in the same– Yesterday was Drew’s Birthday.
Drew and I share all sorts of joys. We love the outdoors. We love running and hiking and fishing and boating and camping and traveling…. and we love our little girls so very much.
Our kiddos are a big part of what’s kept us from getting out like we used to, but only in the way that anyone would expect, and in the best way of course.
As Charlotte gets older it’s been a joy to see her get into the things we care about. Specifically, this year she’s been very interested in fishing. She and her Daddy make up a lot of stories about fishing. That’s what inspired this piece. I hope you enjoy it
Runs in the Family
Jill N Davies
It was about three hours before the sun rose. It was still inky black nigh when my alarm went off the first time…
I hit snooze twice, even though I meant to get up right away—I promised myself I would, but my mind was stuck in that pleasant hazy twilight of semi-sleep. My body was certain it needed sleep.
At 3:45 I finally pressed stop instead of snooze and started my day—The best day of my life. The sun would reach over the horizon to dawn on a perfect spring day, giving the clouds a silver kiss and bringing color to the gray that blanketed the trees. But I had plans to already be out on the lake by then.
After starting the Mr. Coffee and grabbing my lunch from the fridge I put on my lucky shirt. You know, the green flannel? Threadbare with two missing buttons on top? I wouldn’t dare go fishing without it. I headed out the door with a toasted bagel and coffee with too much sugar in it and drove the Dodge on the windy road up the hill to Emmigrant Pass.
Just like I planned, I was launching out onto the still, glass surface of the lake as the sun peaked over the horizon. (The mountains gave me a few minutes since I snoozed.) The stroke of my paddle broke the water’s surface as I headed out to the perfect spot. The only sound for a dozen miles was the splash of water against the boat and the waking songs of sparrows. In other words, it was the perfect environment to catch a fish.
I scanned the lake’s smooth surface until I found the small disturbances of lighting insects and pointed my pole in that direction. The whizz of my line gave me that certain satisfaction—it was a good cast. The only cast I needed.
No sooner did the bait hit the water did the fish take it. He didn’t give it a tentative tap-a-tap-tap. He grabbed the bait and dove!
He went deep into the lake, pulling all the drag out of my line faster than I could adjust it. All I could do was hang on for one hell of a ride!
That darn fish drug me all across the lake, nearly capsizing me on the rocks that line the east shore. I reeled so hard I thought my arm was going to fall off, but I wasn’t about to let that sucker go. I could tell he was a big fella and I was intent on getting him into the boat. All I had to do was outlast him. The only problem was that it wasn’t looking like this was the sort of fish that would tire out.
The sun was high in the sky the first time he took a break. My arms were on fire from hanging on and the mayo on my sandwich was probably completely warmed over by then.
When he took that break, I reeled like hell, keeping my pole level with the water and cranking like my life depended on it. I probably made a bit of ground on him then, but as soon as he figured out what I was doing he took off again. We did that song and dance three more times before I knew one of us better think of something different.
It was him that decided what would be different. Instead of stopping to rest he dove down deep. I could tell he was really going because the front of my boat was dipping down low—so low that I was worried I’d take on water!
But just when I thought I was going to have to do something about it the downward plunge stopped and the fish turned tail. He was headed up!
As soon as I figured that out he broke the surface. He sailed so high I could see all of him as he sailed over the boat. He was a beautiful, golden brown trout, glistening in the sunlight. His dark spots stood out like a streak of polka dots in the brilliant sky. My jaw dropped at the sight of it. I was so taken by his magnificence that I nearly didn’t act.
Lucky I did though or I wouldn’t be telling you this story today.
I reached behind and grabbed the net, thrusting it out in the path of his arc so that he landed straight in it!
I hauled him onto the boat and brought him home for dinner. Best trout I’ve ever eaten!
“That’s grandpa’s story!” Alma cried in protest.
Sherman shook his head, unable to hide the mischievous twinkle in his eye as he pulled the covers up to her chin.
“Who told you that was grandpa’s story?”
“Grandpa did! He told it to me first!” Alma said.
Sherman contorted his face to something between hurt and ponderous. “That wretched thief!”
Alma giggled with glee.
“Betrayed by my own father!” Sherman waxed on, causing her to erupt into fits of laughter. He smiled at her spectacle of joy.
“Alright. Enough,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. “It’s bedtime.”
He rose from the bedside and turned to flip the light switch. Before he did Alma spoke up, blond hair and big eyes peaking out from the covers.
“Did grandpa really steal that story from you, Daddy?”
Sherman cocked his head, giving her a knowing smirk.
“You bet he did. But don’t worry, someday I’ll steal it from you too, so we’ll all be even.”
The End
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Want something with` a bit more meat on the bones? I write short stories for reedsy. You can check out my:
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If you’ve got an idea for a flash fiction story send it to me at author@jillndavies.com
Tune in next week for more Flash Fiction.
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