"Welcome to the fourteenth annual Clayton Countywide fishing tournament!"
It was a nice, sunny day, and Michelle Espadon was looking forwards to catching a really big fish. Maybe I'll get lucky and win the tournament! Michelle thought to herself. But it won't matter if I lose. I just want to catch fish!
Lugging her tackle box and fishing rod up the trail to the Lake Whitfield boat dock, she spied a few of her neighbors and friends getting ready for a long day of fishing.
"Good morning, Michelle!" shouted someone from the side of the dock. "I see you're entering the tournament today."
"Oh, hello Mona!" Michelle shouted back. "Of course I'm entering. What did you expect?"
The two girls stood together and looked at the rest of the competition. There were people from all over Clayton County: an Asian man with a small, fluffy dog, a woman with an orange flower in her hair, two brothers speaking in Italian accents, and many more.
"Isn't that guy over there last year's champion?" asked Michelle. A silver-haired boy with a puffin flapping around his head was helping a gruff-looking man launch his boat.
"Yes," said Mona. "That's Emil Steilsson. He caught nearly one hundred pounds of fish during last year's tournament, and many people expect him to win again this year."
"I hope I can beat him," Michelle said cheerfully. "It can't be too difficult to catch that much fish, right?"
"Ah…"
There was the sudden squawk of a microphone. "Attention, attention!"
Everybody looked towards the judging tents. An excited-looking man with glasses was holding up a clipboard and waving it around randomly. "The tournament starts in fifteen minutes! All entrants must be in the water by then! I repeat, the tournament starts in fifteen minutes. All entrants must be in the water by then."
Michelle was surprised. "Sorry, Mona, I have to go. Can't be late now, can I?"
"It's fine. I'll be rooting for you on the sidelines," said Mona. "Good luck! And be careful-"
Michelle had already run off towards her boat. "Be careful, Michelle… strange things lurk in Lake Whitfield," she finished. Sighing, Mona walked over to the spectator's seats. This surely would be a long, nerve-wracking day.
Just as some of the first competitors got out into the water, Michelle arrived at her small boat, the Swordfish. Swinging her tackle box and rod into it, she clambered in after untying the rope holding it to the dock.
In her mind, she performed a quick equipment check. Rod, check. Bait and hooks, check. Life vest, check. Emergency flares, check. Engine keys, check. She went through a list of other things before finally starting the motor and slowly moving away from the dock. Full tank of gas, check. Deck shoes, check. Lucky hat- she pulled her lucky hat from the tackle box and put it on her head- check.
Now almost all of the anglers were on the calm waters of Lake Whitfield. Motoring out, she looked around expectantly. I wonder if any of my friends are competing.
There was a second squawk of the microphone, and the same announcer shouted, "Five minutes until start time. I repeat, five minutes until start time! This is the last call for competitors who wish to enter the fishing tournament! Five minutes until start time!"
On land, a few anglers rushed towards their boats. Other than that, there wasn't much movement.
After waiting a while, the mic came on again and the same person said, "Welcome to the fourteenth annual Clayton Countywide fishing tournament! I hope you all are having a great time!"
There was a smattering of applause from the crowd gathered on shore. "Alright, here are the rules," the announcer shouted. "First up, all fish caught must be of legal size, weight and/or length! Second, no two anglers may be within five feet of each other after the tournament begins! Third, no cheating! Fourth and finally, have fun out there, people!"
Another smattering of applause. "A list of the anglers competing is available at the front tent," continued the announcer. "The tournament starts at nine this morning and runs until three PM. Speaking of which, we'll start in just about two minutes. Get ready, people!"
There was the sound of motors revving and sputtering. Michelle's motor, instead of roaring, coughed a bit and politely sputtered to life.
"Ten, nine, eight…" The announcer was joined by the crowd and quite a few of the fishermen.
"…four, three, two, one! Go!"
All at once, the fishing boats sped off (or slowly made their way) out into Lake Whitfield. Rocking violently in the wake of the large, more powerful boats, Michelle and the Swordfish had to wait a while before puttering out towards one of their favorite fishing spots.
I've always wanted to write a seemingly random story about fish. So here it is.
Michelle Espadon is the name I'm using for Seychelles. This is because if I gave her France's last name, her and Monaco would have the same last name and would therefore be related.
Mona is the name I am using for Monaco. I've got a lack of naming skills.
By the way, Espadon in French means swordfish. Yep, naming skills galore.
- Long-Vuong