Early Start

George shifted the throttle on the old motorboat and disappeared into the mist forming over the cold water of the lake. The first rays of morning sun tried to penetrate the vapor, but were repulsed, leaving only a sickly glow. Chills ran down George’s back as he glanced at the bundle on the boat’s floor. Chains and weights crisscrossed the pink floral sheet. No one could know what he was doing, no one. Traveling by instinct, he reached the deepest part of the lake where the shoreline was hidden from view. First his little boy, then his wife, all dead.

“I wish I’d never found you.” George said as he grasped the bundle.

The package twisted and wriggled in his hands, knocking the industrial ear muff he wore from his head. George released the package and clamped his hands over his ears as a voice, taunting, singing, filled the air. It would be so easy for him to sink into the soothing waters, silent and dark. That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it?

George froze, one leg already poise to jump into the icy water. The sleek trout gleamed at him from its mounted plaque as it lay unwrapped on the floor of the boat. George jammed his ear muff back on and rewrapped the wriggling singing fish, making sure the weights were well clamped. His hands shook as he threw it overboard and he prayed no one would ever find the thing again.

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About A. L. Kaplan

I am a writer, artist, and parent.
This entry was posted in Short Story and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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