A lovely spot.

A Lovely Spot.

Silver brush strokes of lunar ribbons lapped the surface of the smooth and rippling water as it slipped between the banks. An old arched bridge threw a long shadow on the surface. The deep grey river, a fast moving entity, rolled determinedly downstream. A broken homemade bow, with its string trapped in the branches of a drooping mountain ash, noisily slapped the surface.

On the opposite bank, the shallow water applauded, as its searching fingers busily probed between and below the slick algae covered boulders. In the middle of the river, a fly fisherman, waist deep in the water, pulled a length of line with his left hand and slowly drew back his right. As the rod fell behind him, he quickly flicked it sending an invisible coil looping upstream. The lure landed softly.

The fisherman watched intently as the fast flowing water brought the ‘fly’ towards the noisy bow. The unusual sound, would, the hunter knew, attract the curious fish. As the line passed beyond the splashing bow, he pulled it from the water and cast again.

Something strange caught his eye. A dark submerged shape was coming towards him. He kept his eye on it. It was a man’s shoe. The half submerged shoe, bobbed slowly as it passed. He remembered just two weeks before, that a murder had been committed on the bridge. A man had been attacked and stabbed to death. The corpse was thrown over the parapet and disposed of into the river.


The tip of the grim reapers scythe disguised as a breath of cold air, touched the back of the fisherman’s neck, making him shiver. He looked to the bridge.

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The full moon silhouetted the two men struggling there in silence. One had a knife. He raised the blade from left to right in a backhanded sweeping arc. The other, with wide arms and his jacket billowing, staggered backwards onto his heels, he almost fell as he narrowly avoided the deadly stroke. The knifeman lunged quickly, stabbing at his stomach. The knife, kicked from his hand, flew spinning and flashing into the air. It landed noisily against the wall of the bridge.

They raced for the weapon. One grabbed the other round the neck. They both fell hard to the ground as they wrestled for advantage. One lost the impetus as he reached in desperation for the blade. Breathing hard, they gripped each other like lovers. The man on his back grunted as the other bit hard into his cheek. He tore a mouthful of flesh from his face and spat the bloody meat into the others eyes. A hot searing pain shot along his ribs.

They rolled. On his back now, he grabbed the others wrist stopping the metal point an inch from his chest. He could feel the strength in the man as the point of the shaking knife, began to lower towards his chest. Sweat and blood dripped onto his face. Hard, heavy, hot breath, mixed with spit, warmed him.

He began to feel dizzy as his strength along with his life’s blood, seeped out of the wound in his side. The knife broke the skin above his heart.

“ No...Not here… Not tonight...Not like this.”

The cold point of the serrated blade pushed the bone in his chest aside as it slipped determinedly downwards.

“ Please, no.”

The killer wept as he stared into the eyes of his victim. He disregarded the pleas for life and continued forcing the blade deeper. It was easier now the fight was over. All he had to do was finish it. He plunged the knife into the man’s heart.

Gas and gore gurgled from the dead man’s chest. He stood with his hands on his knees gasping for breath. An owl hooted in judgement behind him. He turned and watched as the bird silently and unconcerned, went about its business. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood and gore from his face. Grabbing the body, he heaved it onto the bridge-side. The cadaver fell backwards into the river below. As it hit the water, the left shoe came off and lodged between some rocks. The body floated downstream leaving it behind.

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The fly passed the bow for the third time. The water thrashed as a large trout took the bait. The fisherman reeled in and at the same time pulled hard on the rod forcing the hook through the roof of the trout’s mouth. The fish swam deep as it tried to get away. The fisherman gave the rainbow its head for a short burst, before holding the line taught, and then reeled in steadily. The surface water bubbled again and the silver underbelly flashed brightly in the moonlight as the fish broke the surface.

The angler stepped backwards through the water. He leaned back and picked up his net. In one smooth movement, he slipped it below the writhing trout and scooped it out of the water. He examined the fish, it was eight inches long and looked and felt around eight pounds in weight. He took his knife from the sheath on his leg and cut the line, he removed the fly and dropped the trout into his keepnet. He stood and looked over the river and up again towards the bridge. The moonlight revealed a calm and peaceful scene. As he rubbed the scar on his cheek, he said to himself.

“Aye a lovely spot, and well worth fighting for.”

© Weefatfella.