catch

Fishing on a dock, on my first cast I feel a huge tug on my line, so I pull and reel it in even though the force of it threatens to yank me into the lake. I must have a monster of a fish. I call to my brother and the others nearby, but they're not in sight and none of them come. I turn back and see a bright orange mass emerge from the brown depths: a full-grown tiger slowly clawing its way to the surface, eyes shining, demon face wrinkled and snarling, lips peeling back baring fangs, releasing muffled underwater roars and swirling plumes of furious bubbles. I back away, no longer wanting to pull it in, but it’s coming up on its own now. Soon, it’s on the dock dripping, growling. Petrified, I stand still but it lunges closer and, instinctively, I rub it on the nose like a dog. This seems to work for a second, confusing it long enough for me to back away toward the house. It lunges again, and I extend my edible hand to scratch its wet nose, and it freezes, and we do this dance all the way to the garage where, once inside, I slam the door in its face. But I don't think it's gone. I think it's still out there circling. I hear its rumblings some nights, still angry I brought it up. I'll go out someday I swear.