kaolin fire presents :: writing :: fiction

"NeonNonsense.0"

words

F&C:: 20041114 :: "neon" :: http://www.stwa.net/scrawl/viewtopic.php?t=17105&highlight=kaolin

John watched the fish float above him--dead? He couldn't tell. Its scales were dull green, black, and blue, some of it natural some of it space grime. And it flickered a deep red glow. Space fish were scary creatures, but he was set to eat this one if he could catch it. It was the only one moving slowly enough. And John was mighty hungry.

He stretched back his arm and then whipped the rod forwards while letting the fly slip clean but he cast far too far; gravity was nigh-nonsensical here. Slowly, he reeled the hook in, and noticed that he had some small control over how it moved back towards him.

The fish seemed to be paying him no mind at all.

Patiently, bemusedly, he slipped the tri-barbed hook against the fish's mouth, and waited--but the fish simply floated along, dragging his line a few millis every few seconds.

John let the fish go a minute or so out to get a good tangential on it, then jerked the line mightily to hook the fish all proper.

One instant--the fish glowed red--the line glowed red--the rod glowed red--his arm glowed red--and fuck it hurt!

He unheld the rod as soon as the red glow spasm had ended, thank the gods it was quick, and surveyed his partially cooked arm. It was raw, tingly, and the hair on it was thoroughly singed, smelling to high heaven. He'd just meddoc'd his arm back to casting and there it was nearly useless again.

How did one catch a neon fish? He'd never heard of them, and he knew all the fish, though perhaps not every last behemoth or lurker of a space fish. He saw how this one had gotten away with not being eaten, though. Perhaps he should look for another--self-preservation warred with machismo, and John set about his crash-site looking for something else he could use to snag the fish before it floated away with his rod, line, and hook.