The Fishing Companion

A story about the greatest fishing companion ever!

                                 The Fishing Companion

   

My little brother and I once, years ago, came across a small river in the woods beyond our house. We went down there from time to time just me and him, sitting on the side of the river. We only had one fishing pole so he would be my fishing companion. He told me that he knew stories about people called psychics who can use their minds to control things. He would stand by me for hours while I fished, focused on the waters. Every time I caught a fish he would shout that he did it! He controlled the fish to grab my hook. I would laugh and agree with him.

One day we both headed down to the river and took off our shirts and trousers. I, being the oldest,was the first to jump in. I jumped off of a boulder, settled next to the water. As I jumped into the air I could see the essence of Summer reflecting in the rippled moving waters just below me. Time seemed to stop as I hit the water. First my toes, then my waist, my chest and finally my head was immersed in a bath of cold, refreshing water. My feet barely could touch the rocky bottom. I looked across the water and the reflection of the gleaming sunlight, bounced off the water’s surface giving it an almost metallic looking image. My brother was next to jump in. He jumped in, his skinny body plunging into the warm waters. We both looked at another big boulder across the river. We then looked at each other. It was a race! I headed off full speed. My mouth was filling up with river water as I swam to the boulder. I made it before him. All wet, I climbed on the boulder and sat down, the air chilling my bones. I let the sun bathe me for a second or two as I watched my little brother nearing the boulder. He smiled and rolled his eyes at me as he got in an arm’s length away from the boulder. He reached for the boulder’s edge, but his hand slipped and fell away. The current slowly started drifting him away. He yelled for help, but he was able to grab onto a loose root on the river’s edge. He pulled himself up the root, it gave away, sending a cloud of dirt and sand where it had been pulled. He started to drift away once again. I laughed at him for a moment, then I noticed that the rivers water was really starting to throw him farther down its winding path. He screamed help again. I raced to go get him. Swimming at full speed I could see his skinny arms barely jumping out above the surface, his head slowly being immersed by oncoming folds of water. He drifted farther down the river, making me pick up my speed to get him back. I was about twenty feet away when it happened. An eddy pulled him under with great force. An obstruction of water left a sinking hole on the surface. I raced towards it. I could feel a bit of a pull from the eddy, slowly descending into the dark river’s depths. I looked down and saw his helpless face just below me. He tugged at my feet before sinking. His fingers slipped between my toes as he coughed up bubbles to the surface and passed out, falling backwards into the river’s shadows. I cried in panic as I dived into the dark waters. I couldn’t see a thing, nothing. It was all black. It was helpless. He was gone.

   
    I return fifty years later to this river, which I’ve never had the guts to go near since the day my brother drowned. I was armed with a fishing pole in my right hand and a box of bait in my other. I attached a curling worm to the end of the hook and wiped the worm’s blood off of my hand and onto my pants. Through my wrinkled eyes, guarded by old folds of skin and gray bushy eyebrows, I looked off into the river, chose a spot, and threw my line there. After only a few moments I caught a fish. I threw it in a bucket of water to keep count of my catches. I then caught another just minutes later. I shrugged it off as just luck. I caught another only seconds after the third. I laughed and pictured a whole stadium of fish beneath the water. I kept on consistently catching fish until my bucket was more fish than water. I looked off into the river and smiled. “I guess you really are psychic, little brother.” I laughed, packed up my stuff and left.