James Mwale
Stories (1/0)
Come on bite
Determination was wearing us out. "Hello, folks, let me come fishing with you, I guarantee I won't garbage about once more." Jeff probably said that multiple times. Martin and I traded looks. Jeff had come on an early morning excursion to Hertford Trench with us once. We'd cycled along void paths, the sun shimmering in the green shelter overhanging the street, past the notorious Clibbon's post, denoting an outlaw's grave, and down to the abandoned waterway, where fog rose, steaming and ethereal. Following an hour of finding nothing more significant than minnows, Jeff had invested his energy tossing stones at ducks and cutting his name into a remembrance seat. At absolutely no point in the future! we'd concurred.
By James Mwale11 months ago in Chapters