Here’s my first shot in a long time at creative writing. Thank you to Mr. Atrocity for the subject suggestion.

“Isaac Newton Goes Fishing”

Isaac Newton never liked to fish. He thought it was idiot’s work—standing next to water, pole in hand, waiting for something to come to you. He believed you should go out and get something yourself or else you’re just wasting your life. But Isaac’s brother, Bentley, loved to fish and it was his birthday. Isaac figured he could tolerate one afternoon of fishing for his younger sibling.

They left directly after lunch. Isaac tried to get Bentley to fish in the morning, because he had some science work to do, and fishing is usually more profitable in the early feeding hours. But Bentley was set on fishing during the hottest part of the day. He’d rather work in the morning, having something relaxing to look forward to. Isaac, usually one to argue, couldn’t argue with that.

The river that day rolled along with wind that was up and down like a seesaw. Isaac was convinced that he’d have a hard time casting his line. Bentley ignored his brother’s dour outlook and immediately got to work baiting his hook, testing the line and casting. He waiting for a dip in the wind and threw his line hard to the right, where the wind picked it up and pushed it where it splashed into the water straight ahead. Isaac had less luck, plopping his bait barely past the shore’s edge. At least it hit the water, he thought, and he decided to leave it there, waiting while his brother fished like a pro.

Time moved slowly that day. Isaac was thinking about math equations. Bentley was napping, having pushed his pole into the ground and wrapped some of the line around his finger to wake him in case a bite came. After about the seventh time the sun broke through the clouds, Isaac decided to stop fishing for a bit and go rest under the nearest tree. It was up a short incline not far from the bank, and he could take a nap himself.

As Isaac settled into that time between sleep and awake, Bentley’s pole rattled, the string pulling on him. Bentley awoke and starting shouting, arousing Isaac from future dreams of levers and pulleys. Isaac watched Bentley from under the tree’s shade as he pulled and released his fishing line, working hard against the struggles of what seemed to be a large fish.

Isaac was interested in Bentley’s fight. He leaned forward a little, his head just inside the ring of shade provided by the tree. He watched Bentley run left and right along the bank, moving with the fish as it tried to unhook itself from the line. He could see that Bentley was getting close to landing the fish, and as he leaned forward on his hands and knees, he heard Bentley let go a barbarous yap, pull his arms and the pole sharply up, slinging the line and attached fish back behind him.

Isaac watched as the fish flew heavenward off the snapped string. It was coming toward him but hit the tree’s branches instead. Bentley ran toward the tree-caged fish, yelling about how it was the biggest one he’s ever landed in his life. Isaac watched him lumber up the bank and wondered about numbers, weights and measures. And just as he was about to tell Bentley that he’d get it, a branch snapped, and the large silver fish fell on top of his head, knocking him to the ground.

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