Not just a classic John Fogerty song, but another signpost along my own itinerary, which was unbeknownst to me.
I am posting another short-short-story this time from a lake in Greece, which I found historically captivating and exhausting at once.
I love Greek cuisine.
Remember we are dealing with the emotion jaded, so have at it:
The early morning mist lying low over the lake was a majesty to behold, as the sun fought to spray its pink and yellow streaks across the summer sky. Theo cast his line into the water, and began the tease. The shiny red lure worked like a charm, enticing the first fish of the day to bite. He pulled his pole back and up in one motion, firmly hooking his catch. It was going to be a great day. The next five hours were spent alternating between casting his line, reeling in fish, and taking swigs from his flask of Ouzo.
It was approaching high noon, the sun reflecting off the water like a thousand gold drachmas. Lake Volvi had produced a basket of plump perch and Theo called for his sons.
“Dimitri! Hermes! Come!” he shouted. The boys came tearing over the rocky hill. “Slow down,” he ordered, but it was too late for Hermes as he tumbled over the rocks and into the cool water. He pulled himself up, wiping at the blood on his knee.
“You see? I told you to slow down,” Theo lectured, wrapping a rag around the little boy’s leg. He knew it was no use; boys are going to run around lakes and fathers are going to lecture. As it has been for thousands of years, Theo said to himself.
“Did you catch many fish Papa?” Dimitri asked.
“Yes, my son. It has been a fruitful day. We must leave now; we will be late for dinner.”
“You boys each take a handle of the cooler and follow me,” Theo barked. Dimitri and Hermes each lifted, their skinny little arms, barely keeping the cooler from dragging across the rocks.
Theo was holding up a huge carp and a stringer full of yellow perch. He was grinning from ear to ear as a stranger stopped.
“Wow that is some catch! The fish gods must have been with you,” the stranger remarked.
“Yes it was a blessed day indeed,” Theo replied.
“What’s in the cooler?” the stranger asked.
“Just the babies. Thank you for the kind words and be well sir,” Theo said in parting. He shouted to the boys, ”Don’t you dare drop that cooler! Stop and rest every so often if you must,” Theo barked at his sons, obviously struggling under the weight.
As they ascended the hill and approached the truck, another man shouted his admiration for the bounty of fish Theo was holding aloft.
“More big fish in the cooler?” he asked.
“Naw, just little ones,” Theo answered.
As the boys tried to hoist the cooler up onto the tailgate of the truck, Hermes fell off balance, dropping his end of the cooler. It tumbled open, a stew of blood, little human arms, legs, and skulls spilling over the grassy rocks.
The stranger screamed. “Oh God, you monster, what have you done?”
“Told you I had the little ones in there,” Theo grinned.
I need treatment.
Here’s a song: