Fishing

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Many years ago I came upon a fox one day fishing by the river. He gaze was so transfixed at the end of his fishing pole that I was at once enchanted by his presense. I drew closer to him, cautiously, so as not to startle him and after he did not stir I settled myself upon a rock to watch him.

After a short while, I could no longer keep to myself.

"What are you fishing for?" I asked.

His long and sharp ears prickled on the afternoon wind.

"Oh, nothing in particular." he replied.

The fox's pole withdrew from the water, and I noticed he had no hook at the end of his line.

"You won't catch anything without a hook I'm afraid." I said.

"Is that so?" he said.

"Or bait." I added.

"Is that so?"

It was then that the fox turned to me. His green eyes sparkled brilliantly against the sunlight. I found I could not look away until he blinked them. His fur shined so softly that I thought I might like to wear it in the winter months ahead. 

The fox grinned at me, and it was a pleasant and friendly smile despite his wild teeth.

"I think I do just fine without them." he said.

Now I know what bait looks like to a fish. However, it was too late to do anything about it because the fox never blinked again.

Created: Apr 04, 2014

Tags: short story, fiction

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