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Underneath the pond’s surface, a long, mysterious creature slithers out from a shadowy water-filled tunnel and swims along the bottom. It scans the waters through bloodshot, brown eyes the shape of teardrops as it absently pulls up fistfuls of mud and squishes the goo. Toward the surface, it sees refracted light filtering downward. It knows the sun is rising, but that is not what stirs the beast.
The fishers on the surface are causing infinitesimal, yet enticing, vibrations in its den.
Company is here.
Another creature, long and pasty yellow, follows the first one out of the tunnel and swims through the water. It circles the pond and returns to the other creature.
The stirring above piques their excitement. The pair remains motionless for a moment, suspended in the dark water, eyes gazing toward the surface. Anticipating; pondering. Eager for some action.
They scour the murky water with purpose.
The bottom of the fishpond is nearly pitch black, but that doesn’t prevent the dark forms from finding what they hoped would be there: a thin line barely reflecting the smallest glimmer of light.
They follow it to its end.
In the darkness of the depths, they float on either side of a small hook dangling a long nightcrawler. The hook attaches to a long transparent line that connects to their real prize.
Toothy, animated grins surround the worm.
Their twisted smirks are disproportionally wide for their narrow, oblong heads. Rows of small, pointy, decaying, broken teeth line their mouths.
Finally, the larger of the two reaches out and grabs the invisible line.
With just two of its thin fingers, it gives the line a little tug. Both giggle, and bubbles race upward from their mouths. The smaller of the two puts a wrinkled hand over its mouth as it laughs and nods its misshapen head.
The Fishers Page 2
