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- Lake Worth, Florida, United States
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- I'm a Fish!
Oh come on!!! You've written better fiction than THAT on this forum before!!
Only kidding.. (sorta).
Well, you do have me thinking about writing a story about a fictional Dumpster Diver
It would be in the genre of the American Noir....With something of a Hemingway slant, because Dumpster is so close to a character in a classic Hemingway novel... I might even do the first chapter after dinner and post it here
---------- Post added June 25th, 2013 at 07:46 PM ----------
The Game and the Hunter ( A novel approach to DD)
They started 2 hours before daybreak, and at first, the older diver rushed the boy and worked at driving him toward a more thoughtful approach. Spearfishing was a man’s sport and it required a thoughtfulness and a toughness of spirit that would have to be instilled in his son, yet the boy was fearless and he loved the hunt, and the older diver knew that one day his son could be the hunter that he himself had so far failed to become...
Five other men wrestled with bait and flashers and the gear they would soon be using to enter into a unique life and death struggle. Sharks would be pawns in this game, they would be pulled in by blood and by bait and their arrival would be swift and their intentions would be deadly. Theirs was a deep hunger, enraged by the promise of a large meal, steeled by the fear of starvation should they miss out on the fresh kill, and driven to be first to claim this prize, whatever it would be.
As the frenzy would come upon them, the Cobia swimming in formation above the backs of each bull shark would become the advance scouts for the Bullsharks, and this unwitting behavior would be their undoing. The Cobia were about to be hunted by the most successful and ruthless predator/killers that had ever existed on the planet …and this was the mantra that each of the men repeated over and over in their minds, as they prepared for the underwater assault.
Six men and a boy entered the ocean and began opening their awareness, and concentrating on everything, and nothing, and they scanned the horizon for the sleek gray torpedo shapes that would soon announce that the conflict had begun.
The father was athletic, strong, fearless to the point of reckless at times, but today he was riddled with trepidation over the boiling caldron of teeth and muscle and killing intent that would soon be boiling over and through the group of 6 men, and a boy. His boy. He knew this was life at it’s purest, this was the game man was best at on land. But this was the ocean, and the game they were about to play could easily be the last game any one of them may ever play.
{End of Chapter One}
