#11

i remember the day well.  it was warm, my mouth was dry and maybe subconsciously i was drawn to water.  i did not see the line until it was wrapped around my ankles.  it was my fault because i did not know where the line was.  no fish were to be caught that day.  its devasting impact on the victim was obvious.  shy of tearing his heart from his chest and emptying its ill-conceived contents on to dry earth and trampling its remains into dust, it’s difficult to imagine what greater damage i could inflict upon one of god’s blind and yet most sacred vessels.  i do hope he’s calmer now, and that the emotion hemorrhaging from his brain, visible thanks to the anguish that slowly materialised upon his face has subsided a little.  fish can’t speak and for those few minutes trapped by my ankles in the fishing line; i couldn’t either.

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