/lit/ - Literature

>>19671497
And? I can write better prose than you. Here:

>The Fisherman

I pierced it on my fishing hook, cast over my shoulder—back across the dunes. Then like a good fisherman I stood and patiently waited, salt air in my hair, the line between my legs. After a minute, a trembling in the grass as of some rapidly advancing army. The game had begun.

Their ape faces sickened me as they all gathered on the sandy rise and began to chase the slimy thing at the end of my hook. And always it evaded their grasp, wriggled hideously upon the white sand, slipperier than the slipperiest eel.

Up on the grey dunes and down to the yellows, then further onward to the foredunes I led them, reeling, always reeling. They fell in slacks and tripped on the dune grass tufts, the mass of them roiling like a primordial ooze. Their starving eyes and mouths desiring of what they’d found, they’d run until they couldn’t. If they caught it, they’d kiss it until their lips cracked.

But I never let them bite, not once, never.

Before the sea the embryo dunes, after the embryo dunes, a drop. That was where I stood, on the lip above, coil tightening. In a moment, if I wasn’t careful, they’d be on top of me. I walked down to the beach’s level sands. As my catch gathered behind me, ravenous and vital, I threw rod and line and lure to the sea.

They couldn’t scramble fast enough. A group of them cried to it, called it their baby and their beloved, but those voices quickly died.

I might’ve taken them to a sea cliff, but I preferred to watch them drown.

Gametes are excellent bait for humans.

Thoughts on this flash fiction? Thank you.

I pierced it on my fishing hook, cast it over my shoulder—back across the dunes. Then like a good fisherman I stood and patiently waited, salt air in my hair, the line between my legs. After a minute, a trembling in the grass as of some rapidly advancing army. The game had begun.

Their ape faces sickened me as they all gathered on the sandy rise and began to chase the slimy thing at the end of my hook. Always it evaded their grasp, wriggled hideously upon the white sand, slipperier than the slipperiest eel.

Up on the grey dunes and down to the yellows, then further onward to the foredunes I led them, reeling, always reeling. They fell in slacks and tripped on the dune grass tufts, the mass of them roiling like a primordial ooze. Their starving eyes and mouths desiring of what they’d found, they’d run until they couldn’t. If they caught it, they’d kiss it until their lips cracked.

But I never let them bite, not once, never.

Before the sea the embryo dunes, after the embryo dunes, a drop. That was where I stood, on the lip above, coil tightening. In a moment, if I wasn’t careful, they’d be on top of me.

I walked down to the beach’s level sands. As my catch gathered behind me, ravenous and vital, I threw rod and line and lure to the sea.

They couldn’t scramble fast enough. A group of them cried to it, called it their baby and their beloved, but those voices quickly died.

I might’ve taken them to a sea cliff, but I preferred to watch them drown.

Gametes are excellent bait for humans.