I'm a little frustrated because... YET AGAIN, I lost something I spent a few hours working on.  Instead, I think I'd like to relax by attempting to re- create something I wrote for my little brother years ago.  (I need to take a break from serious posts and do something a little more creative.  hehe)  My brother was very young, so I tried to write him a short story I thought he would enjoy, based off the interests he had.  It wasn't my favorite story by any means, but it held a special spot for me because of mine and my brother's relationship.  Although I'm sure I remember some of the details incorrectly, I'm going to try and re- write it to the best of my ability here.  Sadly, I doubt my brother remembers it at all.  LOL  Here goes nothing!

Catfish Treasure
As I took a big breath of fresh air, I carefully headed down the steep incline of the mossy bank.  It was perfect weather for fishing and I was well prepared.  My best rod and reel, a tackle box with all the assortments, and a wide-brimmed hat were all that I had taken from the house.

However, as I approached the most secluded part of the bank, I was surprised to see that I would have company.  I almost turned around, but something made me stop.  After all, it was just a little boy around 8 or 9 years old.  What harm could he do me?

I sat down a few feet away from the boy.

“Howdy mister,” he said.

“Hello,” I replied, shocked that he didn’t flee like a cornered rabbit.  "Nice weather for fishing.”  I opened up my tackle box and dug through, trying to decide what to use.  “It feels like a bluegill day,” I said, so I pulled out a rubbery worm and attached it to my line.

The boy had been quiet so I tried to break the silence.  “Have you caught anything within the last hour?” I asked, not knowing whether to expect an answer.  When the silence resumed, I looked toward the boy.  He was staring in awe at my tackle box.

It must have taken the question a while to sink in because the boy suddenly shifted his eyes in embarrassment and answered.  “Nope mister,” he said.  “Notta nibble.”  He turned toward the bank and focused on his line.

“How long have you been here?” I asked, noting the mud splats on his overalls.  I cast my line.

“Since I et this mornin’,” he said.  I looked behind him and noticed a small collection of fish bones sitting on the ground.

We fished for a while without saying anything.  We felt our lines with our fingers and listened to the water run by.  I reeled in my line to check the bait and cast it back out.

I was appalled when three hours had passed and the little boy had never even stirred a finger.  What patience!  Then it started to mist.  My nice fishing hat didn’t offer much protection, but when I saw the little boy’s hair dripping with rain water, I felt a little pity.

“Well,” I said, “I’m a’ goin’ home.”  I reeled in my line and felt eyes watching as I closed my tackle box.  I stood up to leave.  “Shouldn’t you go home?” I asked.

“I am home,” he replied.  My thoughts faltered and I turned around to leave.  Before I left, I took my expensive hat off and placed it on his head.

He looked up and smiled through wet eyelashes. “You comin’ back mister?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.  “I don’t’ get out to fish much.”

-------

It was a few weeks before I could fish again.  My job and other responsibilities kept me away.  However, as soon as I was able, I headed out to the secluded spot. The boy was still there and he was curled into a ball, sleeping.  I checked behind him.  The accumulation of fish bones had grown.

I decided not to disturb him as I got out my tackle box, but despite my efforts, he started to stir.  “It feels like a catfish day,” I said as I dug out a container of chicken liver.  The little boy sat up and started to get his stick and string ready.

“How do you catch all them?” I asked nodding toward his pile.  He smiled.

“Secret’s in th’ bait, mister,” he replied shyly.  As we fished, I noticed a small rumble.  I didn’t know the source of the noise until I saw the boy rub his stomach.  A closer look revealed that he was indeed smaller than he had been at our first meeting.  We fished and fished, but we had no luck.  I noticed the despair grow on the boy’s face as the sky darkened. Finally, the boy showed some life.

“I caught somethin’!” he yelled as he jumped up and down excitedly.  “I caught somethin’!”     He quickly pulled in his string as I paused to watch.  As the length of the string on the bank grew, so did his anticipation.  Finally, his catch was revealed.  I tensed to see what his reaction would be.  He struggled with his face and then a sob broke the silence.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I’ve been fishin’ all day and I’m hungry!” he shouted between his sobs.  “And all I catch is a lousy toy truck!”  He threw the toy down and as his wailing rose, I tried to think.  I didn’t have kids and I had certainly never tried to comfort someone who had to live off fish.

“Naw,” I said.  “That ain’t no lousy truck.”  His sobs shortened and grew quiet.  After a few moments, he spoke.  “Whadya mean, sir?”

“This,” I said, picking up the rusty toy and racking my brain.  “This is catfish treasure.” The boy gave me a puzzled look. “Catfish treasure,” I repeated.  “Some little catfish boy didn’t want his toy, so he left it for you to pick up.  He thought someone else might enjoy it more than he did.”   The boy looked at the truck in a new perspective.  His eyes took it in with reverence and he slowly reached out for it.  I handed it to him.

“Well, I got to go,” I said.  I gathered my stuff and paused.  “You hungry?” I asked.  I went on before he could deny it.  “I packed myself somethin’ to eat, but I’m not hungry any more.”  I placed it in the middle of the clearing and started walking away.  The boy’s voice stopped me.

“Come tomorra’?” he asked.  I thought and smiled.  “Sure,” I said.

------

Two days later, as I came closer to the spot, I shifted my load.  It was one lunch and one tackle box heavier than usual.  To my surprise, the boy wasn’t there, so I set his gift and everything else down and prepared to wait for his return.  I took a deep breath.  “Why not?” I said.  “A bass day.”  I grabbed my fish lures.

As I attached my lure, something in the bushes caught my attention.  I headed over.  It was a rusty bucket with many small holes adorning its sides.  My expensive fishing hat rested on its handle, so I picked it up.  The bucket was filled with moist dirt and a leaf sat on top.  Scraggly letters had been scrubbed on with a piece of coal.  

“Katfisch Tresher”

I looked  again at the dirt and saw the end of a worm disappear into its depths. I thought for a second and smiled.  “Seems I was wrong,” I said as I placed my hat on my head.  “It’s a catfish day.”  I took off my lure and baited my hook with a worm.



*********************************************************************************

I think my original story was actually a little longer than this, with more interactions.  However, most of my stories don't involve so much dialogue, and I usually hate writing open endings. That's one of the reasons I remember this so well..... it was one of two or three that I wrote in this style.  I went through a short stint in which I wanted to experiment with it... but I NEVER enjoyed it.  I've always hated movies with open endings as well, though my husband loves them.

I remember when I first read it to my brother, he felt so giddy about it!  I had never written a story -specifically- for anyone, so he felt special.  I'm not so sure he liked the story itself, either.  LOL  I do remember being hesitant to share it with him because the little boy was homeless and that seemed a little harsh.  However, I wanted to convey a message about being pleased and taking joy in the small things of life.

When I DID share it with my brother, he wanted to ask all sorts of questions like "What happened to the little boy?" and even concluding that the little boy had died.    That's not what I had intended at all, so I felt a little badly that he even came to that conclusion.  LOL  Of course, it's also possible that I had somehow and unintentionally tilted the story that way.

Because of the way it was received, I did consider adding more to it or even just plain out changing what happened in the story.  However I decided against it because doing so would have destroyed my original purposes:  to explore open endings and to try writing something that centered around dialogue.

I will say this though:  After I wrote that story, my brother was so touched by the gesture that he actually took an interest in writing, himself.  He wrote a few very short stories (he was quite young at the time), and loved to put great big illustrations into them.  I'm not sure, but I think his love for art spurred him more than anything because he began to write longer and longer stories.  Last time I talked to him about his writing (less than a year ago), he had actually begun working on his own novel.

Embarrassingly, he had achieved more than I ever had!  At 30 something pages, I was impressed by the complexity of his story.  I don't know if he kept working on it or not but I hope he continues.  Although it's rare for someone to make a living off writing novels nowadays, it's a great hobby which exercises the mind and allows people to release their feelings and imagination.  I've seen many great works here on vizzed and I hope that each writer continues the habit.

I never was able to get very far in my 'novels', which is why I have a small collection of short stories.  I'm not sure I'll ever have the moxie to finish a 'novel', and it's a rare talent to have.  The fact that this story inspired my brother to write short five page stories all those years ago means a lot to me.  He's got plenty of talent to fall back on, but it's something him and I can bond on, and a way that I affected his life.  Thus, while I definitely did not like this story very much, it held sentimental value for me.

Now.... one of the things I didn't like about my previous threads containing short stories:
They really kind of just fill space.  I mean, people can offer critique, but that doesn't inspire much -interaction-.  Therefore, I want to do something slightly different for this thread.  Since this story is special to me because it inspired others to write.... I'd like to see you do the same thing.

If you choose to respond to this thread, please post a short story.  It doesn't have to be as long as mine, but it should be more than a few paragraphs... LOL

And since there are plenty of areas to post short stories.... I have one more specification:
As much as I dislike the genre?  I want the stories posted her to be similar to this one: open endings.  In case you aren't sure of what that means, an open ending story means that no conclusion is set in stone.  The reader basically gets to analyze he story and come up with their own conclusion based off their personal interpretation.

And... hey, why not make it a contest?

I'm going to set a deadline... let's set it for April 20th since stories take time to write.  I can't say what the prize will be since I will likely have a different amount of viz, but I promise the prize will be well worth your time.

I look forward to any submissions!  Be creative!

Great idea for a contest. I wish I was more creative though. I look forward to seeing the submissions.

Local Mods :
Sorry, but here's another one.  I can't afford this competition, and it wasn't doing well anyways.  I might as well shut it down before anyone decides they DO want to participate in it.  Besides, I won't have the time for it, to judge or otherwise.

Thank you, and God bless!

Well, if you're sure about it...

~Closed by request~