The Big One

The Big One

         There are many things a boy could do on a sunny day during the spring in Mississippi.  But on this day, a scrawny young boy sat on the bank of the Pearl River.  Pole in hand, he cast his bait as far as his arms would allow.  And as the chunk of chicken liver struck the descending waters of the river, circles of ribbon like waves appeared, and rippled throughout the area.  The young boy tightens the line and waits. 
         Dreaming of catching a huge catfish that his grandfather often told story’s of while siting on the porch of their old country cabin.  His grandfather was also known for telling tales that somewhat seemed to be far fetched.
         Suddenly the line slacked, then became taught, and with all his might he gave a huge tug setting the hook in the mouth of the fish.  The fishing reel screaming, the boy knew what he had.  The strong old pole bent and pointed toward the water.
         Drag set, he began to reel and pull against the fish, closing its distance to the bank.  His frail arms were giving way and the fear of losing the battle raged through the boy.  His grip tightened, cranking the reel ever so hard. 
          He could see the fish was tiring as was he.  Turning, he placed the pole on his shoulder and ran up the bank, the fish in tow emerged from the murky water and began flopping in the dirt.
         The boy turned to look at his catch.  He had done it, he had caught the big one.  The fish had to be at least thirty pounds, the boy thought.  The young boy looked down upon his catch, too weak to carry the weight, and seeing the wide yellowish flathead gasping for air, he sadly knew he had to let it go.             
         Exhausted, with a smile on his face, and a story for the porch, the boy knew someday they would meet again.     
         
By: Robert Carnathan