Brain Bits To Go

Flash Fiction February Day 14

Catfish Blues

Orly sat on the edge of the roof of a former strip mall and stared at the bobber of his fishing line sitting in the murky water a couple of feet below his boots.

He had been sitting like this for a few hours now and his butt was starting to hurt. He shifted his weight and continued to stare. He knew that a few feet behind him, Dale was next to the winch the two of them had bolted to the roof two days before.

Orly’s job was to reef the line to set the hook. Dale’s was to start cranking the winch to haul the catfish out of the water. Once the hook was set, Orly would scramble back to help with the winch. It would take both of them to lift two-hundred and sixty pounds of angry catfish onto the roof. If the winch held.

He sat and stared at the faded orange jerry can that served as the bobber. Being bigger wouldn’t make it harder for the catfish to take under, just made it easier for a tired setter to see. The bobber stirred slightly and he flexed his hands in the thick gloves and gripped the line a little tighter.

“Might have a trier.”, he called to Dale.

There was a grunted in reply and Orly heard a couple ratchet clicks as Dale took up the slack in the line. He barely moved his hands as he laid slowly over on his side swinging his legs up onto the roof. Twisting and wriggling, he carefully got to his knees, and then his feet. Through it all, his hands had barely moved and his eyes never left the improvised float. 

It stirred again slightly more strongly, but not yet enough to say it was anything worth taking back. He watched and waited. 

Sweat ran into his eyes, blurring his vision. He could still make out the bobber through the burning so he didn’t let go of the line to wipe them. He was muttering under his breath now half remembered songs and snatches of prayers to a God he wasn’t sure was listening.

The float vanished, Orly hauled on the line with all his strength feeling the barbed hook set deep. He let go and lunged back and to the side as the heavy line snapped taut. He could hear the ratchet clicking slowly as Dale put all his weight into cranking the big winch.

He gave the line a wide berth as he rushed back to help Dale. They felt a thud as the massive fish slammed into the wall of the old building in it’s mad effort to be free of the pain in it’s jaw. Before they could reel in all the slack, the huge catfish lunged straight away until it hit the end of the line.

Both men felt the roof lift slightly under their feet. The old steel they had bolted the winch to threatening to deliver them to the  waters below. Somehow, it held. They cranked desperately on the winch handles as the behemoth came in to get momentum for another try. 

They had it now. There wasn’t enough line for it to run again and they were finally able to lift it’s head clear of the water. It’s struggles were weakening as Orly left the winch to pick up the old rifle beside their bedrolls a few feet away. Still staying clear of the line, he moved back to the edge of the roof, aimed carefully and fired a single shot into it’s brain. After a few residual twitches, the great catfish was still.

Using the winch and brute strength, the two men wrestled the huge fish up onto the roof with them. They immediately set to work cutting and wrapping the fish and placing it into their boat for the trip back to the town. They kept everything. What the community couldn’t eat would go for fertilizer in the hydroponic gardens on the roof the old warehouse.

They were bone weary by the time they finished. Luckily, the wind was in their favour so they would be able to use the sails going home instead of having to row all the way. 

Dale slept in the bow of the vessel while Orly worked the tiller and lines to steer them down the streets of the sunken suburb toward higher ground and home.

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Today’s two-fer. Excuse me while my brain melts. The exercise today was to write a story explicitly stating character thoughts. Only imply through their actions.

Always looking for feedback on these.

Cheers,