Another Fish Story by Derek Marshall--Professional/Final Draft
The sun was just rising and the wet heavy air put me in a mood of frustration and agony. The sun’s waking rays were beating upon my red sun burnt face. I started squinting my eyes to avoid the hot sweat and the little annoying bugs from swarming around them. The early morning noises echoed and could be heard in all directions around me. I heard birds singing and chirping, little insects buzzing to natures’ mystical beat. I was angry that I could not control the continuous beads of sweat rolling down my stinging face. I was holding a large Snook; the fish was enormous compared to my small skinny seven-year-old body. My dad was so proud of me but at the same time he was snapping at me to smile and formulate a pose for the camera.
My body was so tired and weak from the early morning trip that I was shaking and struggling to muster together some more energy to keep the fish up for display. I quickly put together a smile to get this whole picture thing over with; my dad felt the same way. I felt disgusted trying to hold a smile on my face while the dead weight of the fish dangled by the clear fishing line and sharp metal hook. I was wearing some simple ragged shorts, no shoes no t-shirt. I felt dizzy and awkward when his slimy gills and sand papery skin rubbed against my soft body. My hands were still tired and red from the struggle earlier this morning, I could see red lines criss crossing on my wrist. The pine needles under my sun burnt feet felt as if I were stepping on broken glass, every crunch like nails on a chalk board. Every movement I made was more pain added to the list. My dad took the picture and immediately walked away; no word was said. I felt used and I knew the fish had to have felt the same way. My dad took the picture and that was all he wanted from me, nothing else. The dead fish meant nothing; it now spends its life in some small frame somewhere around my house. The fish was nothing and I was left with a feeling of emptiness and bewilderment, I felt as if I took the fish’s life away because I was egged on by my family’s screams and hollers.
After the picture was taken I looked down at the lifeless defeated creature, its hard glassy black eyes looked straight through me. The fish’s scales were beaming in the sun like proud diamonds upon an old widowed woman. A group of gnats slowly flew by the fish’s blood-crusted mouth and soon there were groups of little black dots dancing all over the crusted surface of the fish. The large metal hook piercing through its mouth looked extremely painful; its mouth looked as if it were almost torn off by his constant struggle to get off the hook. The green stripes painted on the fish’s back looked faded and lifeless, matching the fish’s black sorrowful eyes. The whole circumstance made me confused and sick to my stomach.
I noticed many battle scars on the fish. The scars were like medals on a soldier’s uniform, each one describing a different battle he was in. This soldier won and escaped many battles in his life. This was eminent by both the scars on its body and the size of this creature. I could see the large piercing where the fish bit down and the dangling hook still in contact that pulled his life away. I could visualize its struggle and the feeling that his life was soon to be over. The whole time the fish was hoping this was just a nightmare and soon he would wake to the comfort of his home. He was suddenly scooped from his sparkling blue and slapped against the hard plastic surface of the boat. The fish knew every escape route and who his friends and enemies were. He had mastered which rocks he could tunnel through and the tall grass he could camouflage with. He mastered every hiding rock and safety procedure for escaping its predators. He managed to escape so many dangers throughout his life. He managed to escape the drunken fishermen, the pelicans, and the vicious meat eaters always running after him. Somehow the fish wasn’t so lucky this time and lost to a young boy not knowing one thing about survival or how to live in this confusing world. My whole family was cheering me on when they saw my fishing pole dancing to the left and then suddenly to the right.
I remember the feeling I had when I gained that sudden burst of adrenaline. My muscles started frantically pumping all throughout my body. I was fighting and struggling to bring whatever was on the end of my line in. The cheers from my family urged me to fight on and not give up. I used all eighty-eight pounds of my young body to pull back and fight this creature. I blocked out all the shouts and screams that came out of my family’s mouths, all I could concentrate on was the thought of bringing in whatever was on the end of my line. I felt a large vein on my neck slowly rising and popping out, I could feel myself breathing more heavily each time I pulled back on my squirming fishing pole. My heart frantically pumped to the energetic and frantic music my mind and body were playing. I heard every muscle rip and every joint crack. My body moved automatically and it felt as if I was robotically programmed on what to do. It was like I was reading procedures that go along explaining what I must do to put something together.
Finally I saw a shadow and a picture slowly formed through the blue water, I knew the struggle would not last longer. Suddenly I felt water splashing on myself and I could see a huge fishing net hover over my head. At the next moment I saw a flopping fish struggling for a breath of life through the corner of my eye. The fish moved slower and slower until its gills moved no more, it had one last movement before it suddenly stopped. The cheers flowing out of my family’s mouths meant nothing to me; the only thing I could think about was the continuous flash of the last breath the fish took. I wasn’t feeling as proud of myself as my family did.
Later in life I learned the true reason why the fish was brought home to die; its photo had to be taken to serve as a trophy. A trophy used as a conversation igniter for friends and family members that would come over, a trophy used as a mere bragging item. I was such a young child at the time that this circumstance confused me and brought me further into the world of the unknown, a world so new and unfamiliar to me. I was pressured into the whole situation; I was just going along with my dad, mom, and brother on a simple family trip. My family’s pressure brought the fish in, I couldn’t block out their screams. I learned a valuable life lesson that day. There will always be pressures in your life but you have to learn which are right and which are wrong.
Another Fish Story by Derek Marshall--Draft 1
The sun was just rising and the wet heavy air put me in a mood of frustration and agony. The sun’s waking rays were beating upon my red sun burnt face. I started squinting my eyes to avoid the hot sweat and the little annoying bugs from swarming around them. The early morning noises echoed and could be heard in all directions around me, I heard birds singing and chirping and little insects buzzing to natures beat. I was angry that I could not control the continuous beads of sweat rolling down my stinging face. I was holding a large snook; the fish was enormous compared to my small skinny seven-year-old body. My dad was so proud of me but at the same time he was snapping at me to smile and formulate a pose for the camera. My body was so tired and weak from the early morning trip that I was shaking and struggling to muster together some more energy keep the fish up for display as I quickly put together a smile to get this whole picture thing over with. I felt disgusted trying to hold a smile on my face while the dead weight of the fish dangled by the clear fishing line and the sharp metal hook. I was wearing some simple ragged shorts and no t-shirt; I felt dizzy and awkward when its slimy gills and its sand papery skin rubbed against my soft body. I was wearing some simple ragged shorts with no t-shirt and no shoes. My hands were tired and red from the struggle earlier this morning. The pine needles under my sun burnt feet felt as if I were stepping on broken glass and ever movement I made was more pain added to the list. My dad took the picture and immediately walked away; no word was said. I felt used and I knew the fish had to have felt the same way. The dead fish meant nothing; it now spends its life in some small frame somewhere around my house. The fish was nothing and I was left with a feeling of emptiness and bewilderment, I felt as if I took the fish’s life away because I was egged on by my family’s screams and hollers.
After the picture was taken I looked down at the lifeless defeated creature, its hard glassy black eyes looked straight through me. The fish’s scales were beaming in the sun like proud diamonds upon an old widowed woman. A group of gnats slowly flew by the fishes blood crusted mouth and soon there were groups of little black dots dancing all over the crusted surface of the fish. The large piercing the metal hook made looked extremely painful, its mouth looked as if it were almost torn off by its constant struggle to get off the hook. The once proud green stripes painted on the fish’s back looked faded and lifeless, matching the fish’s black sorrowful eyes. The whole circumstance made me confused and sick to my stomach. I noticed many battle scars on the fish, these were like medals on a soldier’s uniform, and each one describing a different battle he was in. This soldier won and escaped many battles in his life. This was eminent by both the scars on its body and the size of this creature. I could see the large piercing where the fish bit down and the dangling hook still in contact that pulled his life away. I could visualize its struggle and the feeling that his life was soon to be over. The whole time the fish was hoping that he was just having a nightmare and soon he would wake to the comfort of his home. He was suddenly scooped from his sparkling blue and slapped against the hard plastic surface of the boat. The fish knew every escape route and who his friends and enemy’s were. It had mastered which rocks he could tunnel through and the tall grass he could camouflage with, it mastered every hiding rock and safety procedure for escaping its predators. He managed to escape so many dangers in its life. It managed to escape the drunken fishermen, the pelicans, and the vicious meat eaters always running after him. Somehow the fish wasn’t so lucky this time and lost to a young boy not knowing one thing about survival and how to live in this confusing world.
My whole family was cheering me on when they saw my fishing pole dancing to the left and then suddenly to the right. I remember the feeling I had when I gained that sudden burst of adrenaline and my muscles starting to frantically pump all throughout my body. I was fighting and struggling to bring whatever was on the end of my line in, the cheers from my family urged me to fight on and not give up. I used all eighty-eight pounds of my young weight to pull back and fight this creature. I blocked out all the shouts and screams that came out of my family’s mouth, all I could concentrate on was the thought of bringing in whatever was on the end of my line. I felt a large vein on my neck slowly rising and popping out, I could feel myself breathing more heavily each time I pulled back on my squirming fishing pole. My body moved automatically and it felt as if I was programmed on what to do and the procedure that goes along explaining what I must do to successfully win. Finally I saw a shadow and a picture slowly formed through the blue water, I knew the struggle would not last longer. Suddenly I felt water splashing on myself and I could see a huge fishing net hover over my head, the next thing I saw was a flopping fish struggling for a breath of life. The fish moved slower and slower until its gills moved no more, it had one last movement of its gills before it suddenly stopped. The cheers flowing out of my family’s mouths meant nothing to me, the only thing I could think about was the continuous flash of the last movement the fish made before its death.
I wasn’t feeling as proud of myself as my family did. Later in life I learned the true reason why the fish was brought home to die; its photo had to be taken to serve as a trophy. A trophy used as a conversation igniter for friends and family members that would come over, a trophy used as a mere bragging item.
Another Fish Story by Derek Marshall--Draft 2
The sun was just rising and the wet heavy air put me in a mood of frustration and agony. The sun’s waking rays were beating upon my red sun burnt face. I started squinting my eyes to avoid the hot sweat and the little annoying bugs from swarming around them. The early morning noises echoed and could be heard in all directions around me, I heard birds singing and chirping and little insects buzzing to natures beat. I was angry that I could not control the continuous beads of sweat rolling down my stinging face. I was holding a large Snook; the fish was enormous compared to my small skinny seven-year-old body. My dad was so proud of me but at the same time he was snapping at me to smile and formulate a pose for the camera. My body was so tired and weak from the early morning trip that I was shaking and struggling to muster together some more energy keep the fish up for display as I quickly put together a smile to get this whole picture thing over with. I felt disgusted trying to hold a smile on my face while the dead weight of the fish dangled by the clear fishing line and the sharp metal hook. I was wearing some simple ragged shorts and no t-shirt; I felt dizzy and awkward when its slimy gills and its sand papery skin rubbed against my soft body. I was wearing some simple ragged shorts with no t-shirt and no shoes. My hands were tired and red from the struggle earlier this morning. The pine needles under my sun burnt feet felt as if I were stepping on broken glass and ever movement I made was more pain added to the list. My dad took the picture and immediately walked away; no word was said. I felt used and I knew the fish had to have felt the same way. The dead fish meant nothing; it now spends its life in some small frame somewhere around my house. The fish was nothing and I was left with a feeling of emptiness and bewilderment, I felt as if I took the fish’s life away because I was egged on by my family’s screams and hollers.After the picture was taken I looked down at the lifeless defeated creature, its hard glassy black eyes looked straight through me. The fish’s scales were beaming in the sun like proud diamonds upon an old widowed woman. A group of gnats slowly flew by the fishes blood crusted mouth and soon there were groups of little black dots dancing all over the crusted surface of the fish. The large piercing the metal hook made looked extremely painful, its mouth looked as if it were almost torn off by its constant struggle to get off the hook. The once proud green stripes painted on the fish’s back looked faded and lifeless, matching the fish’s black sorrowful eyes. The whole circumstance made me confused and sick to my stomach. I noticed many battle scars on the fish, these were like medals on a soldier’s uniform, and each one describing a different battle he was in. This soldier won and escaped many battles in his life. This was eminent by both the scars on its body and the size of this creature. I could see the large piercing where the fish bit down and the dangling hook still in contact that pulled his life away. I could visualize its struggle and the feeling that his life was soon to be over. The whole time the fish was hoping that he was just having a nightmare and soon he would wake to the comfort of his home. He was suddenly scooped from his sparkling blue and slapped against the hard plastic surface of the boat. The fish knew every escape route and who his friends and enemy’s were. It had mastered which rocks he could tunnel through and the tall grass he could camouflage with, it mastered every hiding rock and safety procedure for escaping its predators. He managed to escape so many dangers in its life. It managed to escape the drunken fishermen, the pelicans, and the vicious meat eaters always running after him. Somehow the fish wasn’t so lucky this time and lost to a young boy not knowing one thing about survival and how to live in this confusing world. My whole family was cheering me on when they saw my fishing pole dancing to the left and then suddenly to the right. I remember the feeling I had when I gained that sudden burst of adrenaline and my muscles starting to frantically pump all throughout my body. I was fighting and struggling to bring whatever was on the end of my line in, the cheers from my family urged me to fight on and not give up. I used all eighty-eight pounds of my young weight to pull back and fight this creature. I blocked out all the shouts and screams that came out of my family’s mouth, all I could concentrate on was the thought of bringing in whatever was on the end of my line. I felt a large vein on my neck slowly rising and popping out, I could feel myself breathing more heavily each time I pulled back on my squirming fishing pole. My heart frantically pumped to the energetic and frantic music my mind and body were playing. My body moved automatically and it felt as if I was robotically programmed on what to do and the procedure that goes along explaining what I must do to successfully win. Finally I saw a shadow and a picture slowly formed through the blue water, I knew the struggle would not last longer. Suddenly I felt water splashing on myself and I could see a huge fishing net hover over my head, the next thing I saw was a flopping fish struggling for a breath of life. The fish moved slower and slower until its gills moved no more, it had one last movement of its gills before it suddenly stopped. The cheers flowing out of my family’s mouths meant nothing to me, the only thing I could think about was the continuous flash of the last movement the fish made before its death. I wasn’t feeling as proud of myself as my family did. Later in life I learned the true reason why the fish was brought home to die; its photo had to be taken to serve as a trophy. A trophy used as a conversation igniter for friends and family members that would come over, a trophy used as a mere bragging item. I was such a young child at the time that this circumstance confused me and brought me further into the world of the unknown, a world so new and unfamiliar to me.