A Comets Tail

A Comets Tale

By Christopher S. Silva

It was just getting dark and James was eagerly going through his tackle box looking for just the right hook and lure. He loved night fishing and the thrill of catching a large Catfish always outweighed the long waits and sometimes fruitless evenings.

His small rowboat was taking on a bit of water and he would have to bail soon. Normally his son James Jr. was with him and bailed the water every hour or so, but tonight Jr. was ill and he was sorely missed. Nights like this were when James and his son would and could talk about anything, girls, drugs and school problems. He treasured such chances and checked the water level again as he tossed his line in and turned the reel three times, never more never less.

Setting the dented pail down and leaning back, he raised his jacket’s zipper a bit to fight the chilly night. James opened a beer twisting the top off as quietly as possible and waited watching the line and the sign, a bit of vibration and a pull. Smiling and thinking again of his son and the quiet time were they would watch the line together for stretches, just fixed on the thin line that disappeared into the onyx water.

The line had gathered some dew and it was running down it in rivulets, the moonlight softly refracting causing the dew to look colored and oily.

James saw the twitch, a soft jerk he leaned forward and took the rod in his hands, finger on the line waiting, sensing the bite two meters below. He felt a vibration and gave the pole a quick jerk to set the hook and with a grin began to reel hard and fast. The rod bent a lovely arc that told of a heavy cat and a good dinner tomorrow with the family.

The placid lake lit-up with and orange glow and at first James didn’t notice, so concentrated he was on his catch. When he noticed, it was fast and frightening. A ball of fire seem to be coming strait for him. The fishing rod fell from his grasp to the bottom of the boat landing in the rising water. Stunned, turning to follow the fireball’s trail he almost fell overboard.

With a whump, the ground shook and the whole lake seemed to vibrate for a few seconds.

“Holy shit!” “What in the hell was that?” James sat down, fishing rod forgotten; he began to row with all his might in the direction of the sound and the fireball.

Jumping out of the boat winded from the effort a bit of water going in over his rubbers he rushed pulling the boat ashore. Reaching into his tackle box he fumbled a bit swearing when he hooked his own hand trying to find his flashlight. Pulling the flashlight out and putting his finger to his mouth he ignored the copper taste and moved forward toward the soft glow in the wood line just a short distance away.

Branches pushed aside and rubbing his high rubber boots making an odd noise James noticed how quiet it was. An outdoorsman, he knew the woods were many things at night but quiet was not one of them. As a child he’d had to overcome the cacophony of insects and animals to be a good woodsman like his father.

Pushing through the soft ferns he approached something he had never seen before, stunned, he looked down. There was a warm heat and the thing glowed soft orange like an old coal by a fire. The comet or meteor (all his mind could think of) had penetrated deep into the ground and there was a huge crater with sizzling and burning trees at its extremities. He knew he should run and inform someone or get help but his legs were frozen in place.