Fishin

1.

Out his plastered window the sky looked vast, the stars glistened, and the moon overshadowed the town, the dusty roads were invisible in the night-time. His eyes wondered to the beyond and what more life had in store for him. Work was in only hours and he could hear his alarm clock ticking away. Maybe he would wait for the sun to rise, it was always beautiful, facing just at the right angle.

“Was the factory all that was left for him?’

He really did hope that there was something else left apart from the town out the window. However bright it shone it was not bright enough to be the rest of his life.

2.

It seemed menial going down to the lake after work every Friday. A simple routine that Michael had become comfortable with. The moment the clock struck 5pm on his watch he clocked out, hung up his vest and that was it. He walked out into the hot December breeze and let the slight brisk wind cool the sweat of his neck. The only sunlight he had seen all day was the peeping light through the top window of the factory. The one light that set apart the light part of the factory from the dark. Always 5 minutes earlier than anyone else to work, just so he could secure his spot away from the darkness and towards the one window he cherished so dearly.

Down at the lake the regulars were all there, Tom, Harry and Rory, all greeted him with a grimace and an icy cold beer.

           “How’s work?”

           “same old same old”

That was all that needed to be said. Three hours went by with not a single word exchanged. Just the gentle sounds on the lake carried by the wind, the mesmerising glisten of the water that had them in a comatose. They never seemed to catch anything bar from the one brown trout Harry snapped up last May, but it did not matter, it was not the fish they were there for; it was the company.

2.

The light started to disappear, and yawns started to be exchanged between the four of them, it was time to pack up and go, fishing rods away for tomorrow, beer cans tossed into the bin and chairs folded away. Michael trudged his way home along the dusty path, the road now only barely lit. His stomach rumbled as he had not eaten since lunch and so far, had only had a liquid dinner; he remembered the pepperoni oven pizza he had in the freezer and suddenly his mouth started salivating.

With the oven preheating, he sat down to watch the pre – recorded news,

           “and what’s happening in the world today” he muttered to himself.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes after seeing bad news after bad news, the only positive seemed to be a little girl who had somehow made it on to the 6pm news for saving a small dog. Michael was only 35 but felt as though he was going on 65. With no wife, kids or even a girlfriend he found himself aging quicker and quicker. He convinced himself that he was fine with his own company but deep down he knew he would love someone to come home to after a disheartening day in the factory.

3.

Waking up again to the sound of his alarm, he routinely fell asleep on the couch chair never making it to bed. It was better that way. He preferred to fall asleep in his chair as it meant he never had to go to bed and toss around from side-to-side realizing no one was there.

Going to fix himself a cup of black coffee his dirty pizza plate was still in the sink,

           “oh well I’ll use it again later,” barely mumbling.

He was known by most of the town and therefore got beeped and waved at on his way to work, he was always offered a lift but always chose to walk. He considered himself a bit of a loner; or at least that was his excuse not to interact.

Living in a rural enough place on the outskirts of New South Wales, Bundeena was charming, and he had moved there almost 10 years ago. First moving over, he was a bubbly new face ready for interaction but now he was tired and over the effort of meeting new people. Yet he always did manage to keep his approachable smile and was known for a quick joke.

4.

With the usual work banter, he chuckled and sneered and when lunch time came, he sat in the usual crowd. As they munched on chicken rolls and drank cans of coke, there was a sudden scream coming from the inside of the factory. All 7 of them raced in to see Rory lying of the floor with blood pooled around his head. His eyes rolled backwards and with no sign of an accidental fall or mistake. They all looked around to see if there was any body in site who may have seen what happened and no one was there.

Michael walked a little further into the factory and saw the faint outline of a bloody footprint.

           “over here!” 

Everybody rushed over and, and came to a sudden holt, someone chimed before anyone got any closer,

           “Do not go any closer till the police get here, we don’t be wanting’ any trouble.”

4.

The sun still shone through brighter than ever, it was a week after Rory’s death and things seemed to continue as usual. There were no changes to the roster, the factory still opened at the same time, the only difference was now there was no Rory.

Fishing was a little different too, no snide remarks or crude jokes, the boys were even quieter than usual. With no beers at all, it was just fishing; plain and simple.

5.

At 3am, he gazed out the window once more and saw a figure move past in the distance, no one in Bundeena was up at this time. Who was this person? He was carrying something in his hand and before he knew it Michael realized it to be the odd object was a gun, he knew in his gut this was the man who killed Rory. Adrenaline pumped through his body. His heart racing and irrational thoughts sprung from one side of his brain to the other.

He was going to stop him. This was his time to prove to himself his courage.

6.

Sneaking out the house with not a sound, he pounced his way down the foot path in a cat like manner, with the man still in eye sit, Michael planned his next move to attack from behind. He was armed and dangerous and Michael, well Michael was not thinking straight.

As he edged closer the man seemed to be walking towards the factory. The closer to the back of the man’s head Michael became he realized, he recognized this man.

It was Peter. An old boss.

“Oh My God” he breathed out loud.

Palms over his mouth, he hoped he had not heard.

Peter had left disgruntled and angry. He was kicked out by the employees, he was ruled out by his own superiors, and was complained about by every single factory worker. All lead by, Rory.

And Michael...

The heroic plan Michael had concocted had come to sudden halt and he realized he was next. He wished to be back in his bedroom looking out the window, oblivious. He was too far in now.

From behind the tree, he waited. Peter had come to a stop and seemed to just be staring at the factory gates, his gun back in pocket. He had him.

Pulling out his phone Michael texted his location, the police would be here in five minutes, he just hoped he stayed invisible and hoped Peter stayed put.

Two minutes passed and he lost his footing, rustling the branches Peter heard and turned round, mouth wide open and gun pointed. All Michael could think to do was pounce. He sprinted at Peter leaping towards his body.

7.

The sound was deafening when the gun shot went off. They both lay there Michael on top pinning him down, blood pouring from his leg, but he did not feel the pain. His eyes were locked on Peter.

           “How could you do it? How could you kill him just like that?”

           “He deserved it; he destroyed my life.”

           “No Peter, you deserved what you got.”

He began to stop resisting, his gun was on the floor somewhere out of reach, the game was over.

Police cars sounded and out came the armed guards. Arresting Peter, Michael was patted on the back and congratulated. With a humble smile he was wheeled away to hospital.

8.

Two weeks later he went fishing. None of them spoke of what happened. But today they drank beers and said cheers to Rory. They also said cheers to Michael,

“for being the bravest bloke in town”

He smiled to himself and believed,

           “I really do have more to give.”

9.

The next day, he packed his bags and left for Melbourne; one more decision made looking out of his window into the darkness.