Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Gone Fishing (02/01/07)
TITLE: Joe Catches A Ride
By Symantha McClennan
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The fog was thick, its icy fingers trailing wet tears across my cheeks. My eyes ached from staring, sightlessly, into the pulsating gloom; ears hearing sounds that weren’t there with the extreme effort to find myself.
The priest chanted. His white robe neatly pressed, the blue bric brac up the front exactly matching that of the white cloth draped over the coffin. Life eerily drifting into death as the priest chanted and sang. The incense puffing out, creating a pulsating gloom as we sat in silence, eyes locked on the coffin sheltering the body of our dear friend.
I used my compass but it only whirled in useless circles like a dog chasing its tail. Like my boat in the fog shroud. “Out 60 degrees counterclockwise, return 120 degrees clockwise,” I chanted to myself, a mantra that I prayed would return us to safety.
“Joe always wanted to go fishing with you guys,” said his wife. “Can he go today?”
Gasping, gulping at each other like fish grounded and gulping their last. We nodded our assent. We would love to have Joe go fishing with us today; Joe in a box, in a bag, without a fishing pole.
Sixty degrees out, 120 degrees in; cold fog licking our faces, tasting our tears; Joe’s gone fishing!
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