Once there was a person fishing on the ocean.

Well, it may have been a river. It could have been an ocean.

No, it wasn’t. It was definitely a river.

Once there was a person fishing on a river there was then the act of fishing that was occurring on that very river where the fishing was occurring.

The river was very still on that particular day. Usually, it was moving quite fast, but in this instance, it was slower than what could be considered slow.

It was almost entirely still. It was appearing so still that the gradual drift of the boat was very difficult to notice unless viewed over a period of many hours.

The fisher was trying to catch a fish.

Not just any fish mind you, but a fish of particular fishiness.

The fisher had been trying to catch this fish for a very long time. It was not for a source of pride, not something that they could gloat about. They didn’t care about the honour and respect that catching such a fishy fish would entail. They were merely determined to catch the fish that they were looking to catch before moving on to another fish.

To them, it didn’t matter how big or small or legendary the fish that they were after was. They were just looking to catch.  After this fish, the next could be of any size or myth.

In their quest they had learned the art of patience so well that it could be said that no one came anywhere as close, for they had learned how to be still for days, only taking a quick break to eat or use a bathroom. They had learned how to sleep and yet be alert at the same time.

There were times that they would come back smelling awful, but it did not matter, for patience was their virtue and waiting for the right moment was their mission.

The fish and the fisher had been engaged in a battle that had lasted for a long time. The fish would get smarter, detecting and recognising the tricks that the fisher would use in order to lure the fish.

Hiding the hook would become more ornate and complex and techniques to detect the hook in order to get the food without getting caught became more and more careful.

It had been a long battle through many a day, week, month.

The sun had been bearing down upon the fisher that day.

Well, it had attempted to. They had remained in the shade for most of the day, knowing full well that it would make the wait be much easier to handle than being in the dry sunshine of the day.

The fisher knew that eventually someone would win the battle, but they knew not who would be the victor.

What if they caught the fish?

What then?

Would they keep it, or would they let such a worthy adversary go?

Only time would tell.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 07:53:79

I was writing something to similar effect at work last night, but the shift ended and I decided to head home instead of continuing to write.

I started again just a few minutes ago and then ended up with something somewhat similar.

It’s okay. I’m not sure as to what I was trying to express when I wrote this.

Written at UNSW.