moonbird
06-01-2012, 02:43 PM
“We stayed out too long.”
My father's face was grave as he held a hand above his eyes to study the fat orange sun, its fading corona just beginning to dip gently into the shimmering water of the massive lake. Its reddening fire seemed to create hissing steam as it kissed the dark wet horizon, the two worlds melting into each other like watercolor paint, the night devouring the day.
The bright blue eyes of my younger sister widened in alarm. “Is it going to get dark? Can we make it back?” she asked nervously.
My father didn't answer but began quickly packing up the fishing gear. The two of us did the same, hurriedly cramming the scattered lures into plastic tackle boxes. Normally Dad was a neat-freak when it came to organizing the gear, but now he was haphazardly tossing everything into random places, bobbers mixing with spinners, spoons with poppers, jigs with plugs. My sister and I exchanged anxious looks.
By the time everything was secure and put away, a quarter of the sun had already sunken into the abysmal black water. The crushing weight of the fast-approaching night hung like an anchor from the ankles of Helios, tugging the day's light slowly down into the murky depths of the lake. His desperate clawing fingernails left bloody streaks across the sky.
“Sit down. We've got to get moving.” Dad was hurriedly strapping the poles down to the deck. My sister and I clung to the metal sides of the boat and watched him yank on the starter, again, again. The tired old motor sputtered, seemed about to start, then died away. “Come on,” Dad muttered, cursing under his breath. He gave the string one hard pull after another, but the engine refused to work. Just when hope seemed lost, Dad gave it one final hard yank. The motor gave a reluctant cough and ground slowly to life, rumbling like distant thunder.
The sun was now halfway below the horizon.
“Your mom's going to kill me,” he mumbled, but it looked to me like Mom wasn't the primary source of his fear. Gunning the motor, we sped down the deserted lake, the top of our little boat bobbing over the small waves like a buoy. As the sky darkened, the temperature lowered. I pulled my raincoat tighter around me, shivering.
Dad squinted from his seat by the motor at the back of the boat. The fading light was making it nearly impossible to see, and soon little more could be made out than a general hazy gray, everywhere. Our pace slowed to a crawl.
“Dad, do you know where we're going?” my sister asked, terrified.
Dad ignored her, instead turning to me. “Maya, you're going to have to get up on the front and look out for logs.”
A heavy flashlight clutched in my hands, I clambered out onto the tip of the boat and shone the light over the surface of the muddy water, trying to move it in an arc back and forth so that I could see everything in our path. My face was grave as I focused on my job. Everywhere around us logs thrust up from the murky depths like blackened fingers poking out from a grave, invisible until they were within feet of us. I knew that with such a small boat, hitting a big enough log could easily capsize us, sending the three of us flying into the cold and unforgiving water. I pulled the straps on my life jacket tighter.
As the moonless night grew black as ebony, it became harder still to see. Thousands of tiny white bugs swarmed around my flashlight, buzzing loudly in my ears, trying to fly into my eyes and nose and mouth. I pulled my hood over my head and held it shut so only my eyes were exposed, squinting into the blackness and praying my dimming flashlight's batteries would hold out.
“Look out!” I cried suddenly, pointing to the ominous dark shape fading into view mere feet from the nose of our boat, where I was perched precariously. Dad steered hard to the right, and I clung to the boat with one arm and to the precious flashlight with the other. We missed the large jutting log narrowly, and it lolled slowly in our black wake like a floating corpse, sending a spray of muddy water into my face.
I quickly wiped my eyes with my sleeve and looked back up. Then, through my blurred vision, I saw it.
Our cabin.
Its small yellow light shone out like a beacon of hope, cutting through the fog and calling us home. I saw our mom standing on the dock, her eyes scanning the motionless lake for our boat, and when we came into view she smiled with relief. We practically leapt from the boat onto the wet wood of the dock and lay there, soaked to the bone, exhausted, and incredibly thankful for making it back alright. Our parents gathered us in their arms and held us close, and together we all stared out at the dark empty lake, the reflections of the stars shimmering silently on its murky waters.
The smile on my face was one of victory.
My father's face was grave as he held a hand above his eyes to study the fat orange sun, its fading corona just beginning to dip gently into the shimmering water of the massive lake. Its reddening fire seemed to create hissing steam as it kissed the dark wet horizon, the two worlds melting into each other like watercolor paint, the night devouring the day.
The bright blue eyes of my younger sister widened in alarm. “Is it going to get dark? Can we make it back?” she asked nervously.
My father didn't answer but began quickly packing up the fishing gear. The two of us did the same, hurriedly cramming the scattered lures into plastic tackle boxes. Normally Dad was a neat-freak when it came to organizing the gear, but now he was haphazardly tossing everything into random places, bobbers mixing with spinners, spoons with poppers, jigs with plugs. My sister and I exchanged anxious looks.
By the time everything was secure and put away, a quarter of the sun had already sunken into the abysmal black water. The crushing weight of the fast-approaching night hung like an anchor from the ankles of Helios, tugging the day's light slowly down into the murky depths of the lake. His desperate clawing fingernails left bloody streaks across the sky.
“Sit down. We've got to get moving.” Dad was hurriedly strapping the poles down to the deck. My sister and I clung to the metal sides of the boat and watched him yank on the starter, again, again. The tired old motor sputtered, seemed about to start, then died away. “Come on,” Dad muttered, cursing under his breath. He gave the string one hard pull after another, but the engine refused to work. Just when hope seemed lost, Dad gave it one final hard yank. The motor gave a reluctant cough and ground slowly to life, rumbling like distant thunder.
The sun was now halfway below the horizon.
“Your mom's going to kill me,” he mumbled, but it looked to me like Mom wasn't the primary source of his fear. Gunning the motor, we sped down the deserted lake, the top of our little boat bobbing over the small waves like a buoy. As the sky darkened, the temperature lowered. I pulled my raincoat tighter around me, shivering.
Dad squinted from his seat by the motor at the back of the boat. The fading light was making it nearly impossible to see, and soon little more could be made out than a general hazy gray, everywhere. Our pace slowed to a crawl.
“Dad, do you know where we're going?” my sister asked, terrified.
Dad ignored her, instead turning to me. “Maya, you're going to have to get up on the front and look out for logs.”
A heavy flashlight clutched in my hands, I clambered out onto the tip of the boat and shone the light over the surface of the muddy water, trying to move it in an arc back and forth so that I could see everything in our path. My face was grave as I focused on my job. Everywhere around us logs thrust up from the murky depths like blackened fingers poking out from a grave, invisible until they were within feet of us. I knew that with such a small boat, hitting a big enough log could easily capsize us, sending the three of us flying into the cold and unforgiving water. I pulled the straps on my life jacket tighter.
As the moonless night grew black as ebony, it became harder still to see. Thousands of tiny white bugs swarmed around my flashlight, buzzing loudly in my ears, trying to fly into my eyes and nose and mouth. I pulled my hood over my head and held it shut so only my eyes were exposed, squinting into the blackness and praying my dimming flashlight's batteries would hold out.
“Look out!” I cried suddenly, pointing to the ominous dark shape fading into view mere feet from the nose of our boat, where I was perched precariously. Dad steered hard to the right, and I clung to the boat with one arm and to the precious flashlight with the other. We missed the large jutting log narrowly, and it lolled slowly in our black wake like a floating corpse, sending a spray of muddy water into my face.
I quickly wiped my eyes with my sleeve and looked back up. Then, through my blurred vision, I saw it.
Our cabin.
Its small yellow light shone out like a beacon of hope, cutting through the fog and calling us home. I saw our mom standing on the dock, her eyes scanning the motionless lake for our boat, and when we came into view she smiled with relief. We practically leapt from the boat onto the wet wood of the dock and lay there, soaked to the bone, exhausted, and incredibly thankful for making it back alright. Our parents gathered us in their arms and held us close, and together we all stared out at the dark empty lake, the reflections of the stars shimmering silently on its murky waters.
The smile on my face was one of victory.