(A Minecraft story)
The bobber hit the water with a small splash, then floated to the surface and bobbed up and down until the ripples dissipated. He sat on the edge of the wooden pier with his bare feet dangling over the edge longing to feel the cool water over his feet, but the water was too far below him. He just let his feet sway freely as he leaned against a support post watching the various fish tempt fate by tasting the bait.
The sun shone down on him reflecting his image in the sparkling water as the breeze tousled his hair from time to time. The scattered clouds blocked the sun’s glare on the water beneath them, making the water dark and easier to see what was swimming there.
He wasn’t really interested in catching a fish today, but rather he was contemplating the meaning of life, and all that goes with it. He wrestled with his thoughts as they nibbled away at him inside like the fish were nibbling away the bait he had dangling from his fishing pole. Little bits and pieces of himself had been eaten away until now he felt broken and empty inside.
Why did some fish simply swim up to the bait, evaluate it, and without even a taste move on past? Why did other fish only cautiously nibble at the bait and as if sensing the hook embedded within resist taking a bite? Still other fish, so hungry as to be blinded to the danger, swallow the bait hook, line and sinker, as the saying goes. They are so intent on the lure of the bait that they forfeit their very lives just for a chance to taste it.
He watched the bobber dance upon the water, gliding over each swell and crest, dipping down at each nibble, only to quickly return the surface again. Fish of varying sizes all vied for their chance at the bait, like some chaotic and exotic dance.
“Of course”, he thought, “only the fish willing to take the risk and bite the bait, ever has a chance at the reward of having it, and there is the off chance of missing the hook or that the line will break before it is too late.”
Suddenly, as if knowing his thoughts, the bobber plunged under the water firmly and the line was pulled taunt. The bait had been taken but so had the hook, thus along with the pleasure would come the pain, only time would tell which there would be more of. He slowly reeled in the line enjoying the fight the fish gave him trying to undo its mistake.
He grabbed the line as the fish surfaced and held it up out of the water several inches letting the fish squirm and struggle without attempting to grab it. It might get lucky and free itself from the mess it was in. The fish’s mouth opened and closed slowly gasping in air as it tried to cope with being out of its element, appearing as dazed and confused as a fish can look. Again it struggled in vain to free the hook from its jaw by thrashing around wildly, but it was helpless on its own.
He carefully grasped the fish firmly so as to avoid hurting it further, and twisted the barded hook out from the fish’s jaw. He tossed the exhausted and scared fish back into the water where it floundered briefly then swam away into the darkness.
“I hope you learned a lesson about temptation” he scolded the fish that were still swimming in circles below waiting for the next baited hook. “That road will always take you farther than you wanted to go, and rarely do you get to return by the same road you took to get there.”
He tossed his fishing pole into the ocean blue, knowing he could never use it again, and watched it sink into the depths until it was out of sight. He walked slowly down the pier, the warm wood against his bare feet, wanting to turn back, but knowing that he couldn’t. And therein lay the struggle…
The bobber hit the water with a small splash, then floated to the surface and bobbed up and down until the ripples dissipated. He sat on the edge of the wooden pier with his bare feet dangling over the edge longing to feel the cool water over his feet, but the water was too far below him. He just let his feet sway freely as he leaned against a support post watching the various fish tempt fate by tasting the bait.
The sun shone down on him reflecting his image in the sparkling water as the breeze tousled his hair from time to time. The scattered clouds blocked the sun’s glare on the water beneath them, making the water dark and easier to see what was swimming there.
He wasn’t really interested in catching a fish today, but rather he was contemplating the meaning of life, and all that goes with it. He wrestled with his thoughts as they nibbled away at him inside like the fish were nibbling away the bait he had dangling from his fishing pole. Little bits and pieces of himself had been eaten away until now he felt broken and empty inside.
Why did some fish simply swim up to the bait, evaluate it, and without even a taste move on past? Why did other fish only cautiously nibble at the bait and as if sensing the hook embedded within resist taking a bite? Still other fish, so hungry as to be blinded to the danger, swallow the bait hook, line and sinker, as the saying goes. They are so intent on the lure of the bait that they forfeit their very lives just for a chance to taste it.
He watched the bobber dance upon the water, gliding over each swell and crest, dipping down at each nibble, only to quickly return the surface again. Fish of varying sizes all vied for their chance at the bait, like some chaotic and exotic dance.
“Of course”, he thought, “only the fish willing to take the risk and bite the bait, ever has a chance at the reward of having it, and there is the off chance of missing the hook or that the line will break before it is too late.”
Suddenly, as if knowing his thoughts, the bobber plunged under the water firmly and the line was pulled taunt. The bait had been taken but so had the hook, thus along with the pleasure would come the pain, only time would tell which there would be more of. He slowly reeled in the line enjoying the fight the fish gave him trying to undo its mistake.
He grabbed the line as the fish surfaced and held it up out of the water several inches letting the fish squirm and struggle without attempting to grab it. It might get lucky and free itself from the mess it was in. The fish’s mouth opened and closed slowly gasping in air as it tried to cope with being out of its element, appearing as dazed and confused as a fish can look. Again it struggled in vain to free the hook from its jaw by thrashing around wildly, but it was helpless on its own.
He carefully grasped the fish firmly so as to avoid hurting it further, and twisted the barded hook out from the fish’s jaw. He tossed the exhausted and scared fish back into the water where it floundered briefly then swam away into the darkness.
“I hope you learned a lesson about temptation” he scolded the fish that were still swimming in circles below waiting for the next baited hook. “That road will always take you farther than you wanted to go, and rarely do you get to return by the same road you took to get there.”
He tossed his fishing pole into the ocean blue, knowing he could never use it again, and watched it sink into the depths until it was out of sight. He walked slowly down the pier, the warm wood against his bare feet, wanting to turn back, but knowing that he couldn’t. And therein lay the struggle…