Friday Fictioneers: The big fish

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

The old men sat in quiet comradery, sipping tall glasses of lager and reminiscing.

“Did I tell you about the time I caught a shark?” asked Jack.

The assembled company sighed. They’d heard it before and didn’t believe anymore upon its frequent retelling.

“I was fishing at the pier, when all of a sudden my line went taut. It was fierce battle between man and beast. My muscles strained, my arms ached, but the same fighting spirit that got me through the war prevailed. After an hour of this, I reeled it in. A foul-smelling man-eater.”

They rolled their eyes. “Your round, Jack.”

Jack Bruce, East London, circa late 1940s

I heard this story quite often at my Grandpa’s knee. I admit, that I didn’t believe it. It was a fishy story. And then I found this photo. Sorry Gramps. You did catch a shark.

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victoriabruce

I write because I have to. It is a compulsion. I do it to vent, to laugh and to remember. I blog because it has been so long since I had to write with a pen that my hand would go into cramp if I tried to write a journal.

20 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers: The big fish”

    1. Oh Lynn, my guess it is East London in Cape province, South Africa. Although from what I know of the town on the Thames there are a few sharks there too!

      1. Haha! How daft of me 🙂 But as you say, there are a fair few sharks in London. They seem to gather around the City and Westminster, mainly 🙂

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