The Catch

The Old man sat by the river, watching the sky turn the color of ash. His hands were rough, and the rod in his grip had seen better days. The boy beside him was quiet, looking at the water with wide, expectant eyes.

"It takes patience," the old man said.

The boy nodded but fidgeted. He didn't have the patience for waiting. He wanted action, wanted to see the line tug, the prize break the surface.

"How long will it take?"

"As long as it needs to," the old man replied. His voice was dry, like the reeds swaying in the wind. "You can't rush these things. You don’t choose when it bites."

The boy sighed and cast his line again. It disappeared into the water with a soft splash. For a while, they sat in silence, the sound of the river filling the empty space between them. Then, the boy’s line jerked.

"I got something!" the boy shouted, standing up too quickly, nearly losing his balance.

The old man leaned forward, watching the boy struggle with the line. "Steady. Don’t yank too hard."

The boy grunted, pulling the rod. Slowly, the line rose from the water. There, glistening in the fading light, was a strange fish, its skin bright yellow with red cheeks that sparked as it thrashed in the air.

"What is it?" the boy asked, breathless.

The old man stared at the creature. It wasn’t like anything he'd seen in the river before. "That," he said quietly, "is something rare."

The boy beamed. "I’m gonna catch them all, you’ll see."

The old man smiled, though he wasn’t sure what the boy meant. He hadn’t understood much of the world lately. But he nodded. "Yes," he said softly, "I believe you will."

Warning: written by robots!
I was seeing if ChatGPT could do pastiche. Partly to compare to my Fleming vs Thurber story. I did ask it to try that it was terrible.