2005, Summer Lakes
It was evening. The sun, tired and pale, hung low over the forest. The sky lay in the water like a large body spread-eagled. The forest, it seemed, had died – there was no cry from a bird, no rustling of foliage, nothing. For some reason, the murmur of the nearby river could not be heard.
“It’s creepy.” I wanted to say it in a cheerful tone, but my voice shook.
My brother smiled and nodded, then picked up the fishing rod. “I’m going to try throwing my line out a couple of times.” He swung and sent the hook far off, all the way to the reeds. The line gently sang as it flew from the reel. The hook flew far away, then entered the water with a slight sound, like a pebble. My brother began to lazily reel it in. Everything was like it always was: the line cut through the wa
