Fish Tales.

Like a massive school of fish, swimming, looping in circles, crowding the surface, my thoughts refuse to pay attention.

Each one holds the covenant of a story, but they are abysmally elusive. A glint of silver, a flash of cobalt, a tail whips briefly from the water. Swiftly, I grab it, but like the sunlight, it slips through my fingertips. I can smell its salty promise, but have no tale to tell.

Forms swirl derisively beneath the water in a seductive alphabet soup, arching with life and possibility, yet uninterested in being caught. I watch them, becoming rather petulant with their steadfast resistance of temptation to my hook. The movement of my lure spins and sparkles in the blue water, throwing prisms designed to entice. These slippery thoughts only play around my hook, never taking hold of the bait. An occasional nibble delivers a thrill, but the ink is washed away before it ever has a chance to dry.

Out of desperation, I plummet my bare hands into the water, clawing at the shadowy illusions. Nothing. My volatile display has dissolved their potential, leaving me with only murky, rippled water. I have no choice but to sit back, impatient and hungry, until their tails propel the tales from the silently cold, dark depths.


14 replies

  1. Keep at it, Tracy. One big catch, and the story can last you a lifetime. The descriptions of the ones that got away can also make beautiful stories, as you’ve proven today.

  2. Gotta admire someone can blog about having bloggers block and make it so blogging entertaining! Ploughing through awesome straight on towards magnificence eh? Cool

  3. Tracy,
    This was as easy to read as was James Joyce’s Ulysses. So I guess this means it’s an instant classic, and should be Freshly Pressed.
    Le Clown

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