~Dapping~
The three brothers scoured the shoreline, carefully picking and choosing, culling then met, each with a dozen special stones in his pocket. The oldest said to the youngest, “You’re the littlest, so you go first. Come on, give us somethin’ to shoot at!” The six-year-old took a deep breath, rared back and heaved a stone. Kerplunk. It fell a few feet in front of where he stood at the water’s edge.
Then the skinny boy with freckles, the middle brother, laughed and kissed the stone in his hand. “Lemme show ya how to do this!” He backed up a half dozen steps then ran to the water’s edge. His stone hit the surface of the water flat... skip.. skip, skip, seventeen skips and maybe more as it bounced out of sight.
Zzzz-zt. The three boys stopped what they were doing and turned in the same direction as if their movements had been choreographed. They stared at a spot a short distance away where their fishing poles were propped on Y-shaped sticks stuck in the mud. The middle pole was bent over and, as they watched, went horizontal. Zzz-ip and it disappeared underneath the water. The boy with freckles dove in after it. “No!” the oldest boy yelled.
“No! No!” the smallest boy echoed. They watched wide-eyed as he followed the fishing pole under the muddy water.
The thin boy bobbed up a few yards out, then swam easily back to shore. He climbed out of the water and plopped himself down dejectedly on the ground. “Yer gonna get in trouble fer losin’ yer pole,” his younger brother warned, “Daddy says yer allays losin’ stuff!”
“Come on, you’d better pull yours in too,” the older brother interjected.
The youngest boy took his pole to hand. “I got somethin’ big ‘n heavy.”
“Oh, it’s a big ‘un!” the older brother exclaimed. “Reel mine in!” he said to the middle brother, “I gotta help him!”
The middle brother joined them. “Looka that,” his big brother laughed, “Looks like we both snagged your line.” Back in the water the skinny boy went but this time he came back with his pole. It took all three boys’ efforts to reel it in because there was a two and a half foot trout on the hook.
The boys cleaned, cooked, and ate that fish. No one would ever believe how big it had been. They went back to dapping, lazing away the summer afternoon. The older brother, who always won, had his best throw.. twenty-one skips.
The skinny boy topped that with a twenty-four. No matter what the boys did, the day was his. They are few and far between, those days, for the one in the middle and sweeter in the bargain.
~First published in Storyteller Magazine~
http://wordwulf.com
WordWulf
The three brothers scoured the shoreline, carefully picking and choosing, culling then met, each with a dozen special stones in his pocket. The oldest said to the youngest, “You’re the littlest, so you go first. Come on, give us somethin’ to shoot at!” The six-year-old took a deep breath, rared back and heaved a stone. Kerplunk. It fell a few feet in front of where he stood at the water’s edge.
Then the skinny boy with freckles, the middle brother, laughed and kissed the stone in his hand. “Lemme show ya how to do this!” He backed up a half dozen steps then ran to the water’s edge. His stone hit the surface of the water flat... skip.. skip, skip, seventeen skips and maybe more as it bounced out of sight.
Zzzz-zt. The three boys stopped what they were doing and turned in the same direction as if their movements had been choreographed. They stared at a spot a short distance away where their fishing poles were propped on Y-shaped sticks stuck in the mud. The middle pole was bent over and, as they watched, went horizontal. Zzz-ip and it disappeared underneath the water. The boy with freckles dove in after it. “No!” the oldest boy yelled.
“No! No!” the smallest boy echoed. They watched wide-eyed as he followed the fishing pole under the muddy water.
The thin boy bobbed up a few yards out, then swam easily back to shore. He climbed out of the water and plopped himself down dejectedly on the ground. “Yer gonna get in trouble fer losin’ yer pole,” his younger brother warned, “Daddy says yer allays losin’ stuff!”
“Come on, you’d better pull yours in too,” the older brother interjected.
The youngest boy took his pole to hand. “I got somethin’ big ‘n heavy.”
“Oh, it’s a big ‘un!” the older brother exclaimed. “Reel mine in!” he said to the middle brother, “I gotta help him!”
The middle brother joined them. “Looka that,” his big brother laughed, “Looks like we both snagged your line.” Back in the water the skinny boy went but this time he came back with his pole. It took all three boys’ efforts to reel it in because there was a two and a half foot trout on the hook.
The boys cleaned, cooked, and ate that fish. No one would ever believe how big it had been. They went back to dapping, lazing away the summer afternoon. The older brother, who always won, had his best throw.. twenty-one skips.
The skinny boy topped that with a twenty-four. No matter what the boys did, the day was his. They are few and far between, those days, for the one in the middle and sweeter in the bargain.
~First published in Storyteller Magazine~
http://wordwulf.com
WordWulf
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