The old bass turned toward deep water on this late spring day. The familiar droning sound was the only thing that made her anxious at this stage in life, and it put her on the move. Without hesitation or thought, she slowly sank and casually finned along the point toward deeper water in the creek channel. She swam directly underneath the metal-flaked bass boat, mere feet from the angler aboard it. Eluding this pursuer required stealth as opposed to speed.
Instinct
by Johnny Carrol Sain - Monday, Oct 8th, 2018