“Pescaria no Parque das Timbaúbas” Juazeiro do Norte, Brazil. CC3.0 photo by MacioFeitosa



For this weeks Flash! Friday we had 200 words to tell a story about the prompt above. We had to include a mischief maker.

Gone Fishin

There is an invisible line, under the hastily built lake in our town. On one side of the lake, the houses are large, and well maintained. We know, because we are the ones that maintain them. My brother spends all day pruning someone else’s hedges, and we don’t even have a garden. Our house is a tiny basement apartment. The only thing growing in it is despair. And mold.

We see the line, but so do the rich folks. The difference is, they are looking down. They don’t have the sun in their eyes, blinding them, making it hard to move. They think they see us clearly. To them we are lazy and stupid.

Works for me. 

I bring three of the boys with me to ‘fish’. 

The rich folks laugh at us. Stupid locals. Don’t they know the lake is empty.

We laugh too. We aren’t looking to eat for one night. We are the lookouts, our job is to spot the servants with the suitcases, to know who is heading back to their third home. Those are the big fish, the lunkers. When we see that, we know we will eat well for a month.