Story Contest 2016 #1 - Outstanding Stories » Gone Fishing

“Gone Fishing” is one of the outstanding stories of the first biannual Short Story Contest 2016 written by Zainab Mohammed Amdad Hossain, Ajman, U.A.E.

Gone Fishing

“Mr. Isaac Gordan, arise from your lazy bunk this instant!” bellowed my mom. Now, who dares perturb my peace on a leisurely Saturday morning? Seems like the world cares no more for peace, does it?

Finally, stifling a tremendous yawn, I reluctantly landed my feet on the floor - the -60 degree floor. Those piercing sun ray eyes of mom threw daggers at me.

“Well, how am I supposed to believe you’re human, if you sleep twice the hours required?” mom asked, not giving the slightest shake to her glare.

“Alright, I’m sorry, sincerely sorry,” I quietly replied as I could very well make out that it wasn’t the appropriate time for a debate.

“Whatever, hasten your unworthy self, and drag your feet down to breakfast. Your uncle Friedrich is waiting patiently for you,” Mom said and at last went back down.

“Wow, Uncle Friedrich, such fascinating news to add to my misery,” I murmured to myself wondering about the implausibly extended day it was going to be.

“Iscat! Morning my son, a very beautiful morning indeed!” beamed my uncle, his smile scurrying to the ears.

“It is Isaac, uncle,” I replied plainly, not paying attention.

“Ah! Son, don’t want to turn up for a lovely embrace?” remarked uncle, ignoring my statement completely and stretching his arms wide enough to conquer the world.

“Oh, thank you very, very much uncle! But I seem not to be in the mood,” I said, forcing the best of a fake smile to plaster my mouth.

“Oh-kays then, what about playing with the fishing rods and poking the river after breakfast?” suggested uncle. He’d always been ardent about fishing; if anything meant to him more than money, it was fishing.

“Fine, fishing we go then,” I replied. I was far from being passionate about fishing; I did not really know how to fish.

When the sun shone as if it wanted to scorch and make us have a meltdown, we came out along the side patches of the river, lodging our stuff in what my uncle thought to be the ultimate apt spot. He chose two massive rocks as our seat.

Next, uncle Friedrich vigilantly checked his fishing rod a hundred times, to ensure that everything was in order.

“Alright then boy, watch how I fish. You’re probably going to appreciate my tactics. If truth be told, you don’t get to see them frequently,” he winked at me and handsomely started to lever the fishing rod, as impressively as a warrior handling the sword of honor.

“Er...Uncle, am I not going to fish?” I enquired, wondering as to why he hadn’t handed me one of his adored fishing rods.

“Oh dear son, you see, you’re a young little lad who cannot boast of any talent when it comes to fishing, am I not right? Besides, you’ve got to observe the art of fishing; so first and foremost, examine my work carefully, so that you learn.” He smiled and made sure my eyes caught his movement of hands and moved along with them. He worked appallingly slowly.

After some extremely annoying while later, not even a single fish could get hooked on to his fishing rod, which made it very well evident what a professional fisherman he was! “Umm…Uncle would you care if I fish now?” I asked amiably.

“Oh no, no, you haven’t grown up in a matter of minutes now, have you?” he said, laughing at his own silly joke.

Again, after several frustrating minutes of ridiculous waiting, my incredible uncle still didn’t get any fish. Without waiting a moment longer, I got myself another fishing rod. My uncle tapered his eyes at me, but kept his intelligent philosophical mouth shut.

A few moments later, I felt a heave at my rod. My fishing rod got heavy, very heavy. I speculated on what I might be hauling. After some tugging and pulling, what came into view snapped open my eyes and mouth to their widest extent. My uncle looked like he had seen a ghost.

“How…how did you petite boy…catch that animal? Unbelievable!” Uncle was obviously bewildered at my catch, a colossal fish so very fine that envy was inevitable.

“To be honest uncle, you’ve been oblivious to the reality. The fact is age has never been a deciding factor in fishing; what actually did and still does matter is providence!” I grinned broadly at my uncle who appeared to be dumbstruck, as I stood there thrilled with myself and my exquisite fish.

The day had commenced infuriatingly, but ended with tranquility and happiness. Furthermore, it was a win for common sense, that commodity so rare nowadays that it may be easier to shift Mt. Everest than to find it!

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