Pirates of the Flambeau: Curse of the Black Lure
Haha! Yes I have finally got this done enough to post! Yay! This story came
to me while floating 'round Lake Flambeau, like I do every summer! Go
Wisconsin! Woo! Some things might confuse those of you less cultured
people, and when I say cultured I mean redneck. Just kidding! Really!
Oh and this one's for Madam Stella for restoring my lacking faith in good
fan fic!
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"Yo ho, yo ho a fisherman's life for me!" The young girl continued to
sing about fisherman and muskies until an ominous hand came up and grabbed
her shoulder, nearly making her jump off the edge of the pontoon boat.
"Cursed fisherman haunt these waters."
"That's enough, Mr. Kramer," said a voice from behind him. Richard Michaels
was the person behind the voice keeping Mr. Kramer in line. Mr. Kramer
walked off muttering about bad luck to have women around. Her dad came up
then.
"I find fishermen really interesting dad."
"Yes, well that's what I'm afraid of." He turned and walked away. The girl
turned back to the water, when she noticed a boy floating on a piece of
driftwood.
"There's some guy in the water!" She cried out. That set the few men on
board in motion. They had to put down their Miller Lights and tackle boxes
and hauled him on board and set him on a bench near the front of the
pontoon.
"Can you take care of him?" Asked the girls father. "I'm not good with
drown victims, ya understand right?"
"'Guess so," she walked over to the boy and reached to brush a piece of wet
hair out of his face. He suddenly grabbed her hand, causing her to
practically jump off the boat for the second time that day.
"Who.are you?" The boy asked.
"I'm Clare, I guess I'm in charge of you or something," she trailed off.
"Derek Foster," he got out before he fainted again. Claire just rolled her
eyes and noticed something around his neck. She pulled it out and looked at
it. It was a small black fishing lure, minus the hooks and was on a silver
chain.
"Has he said anything?" Michaels asked. Claire jumped again and almost said
some things that could get her grounded if her father heard. She was sick
of being snuck up on.
"His name is Derek Foster," she snapped as she wandered back to her
original spot. That's when the fog cleared and she noticed the burning
rowboats and a black fishing boat fading into the fog.
Haha! Yes I have finally got this done enough to post! Yay! This story came
to me while floating 'round Lake Flambeau, like I do every summer! Go
Wisconsin! Woo! Some things might confuse those of you less cultured
people, and when I say cultured I mean redneck. Just kidding! Really!
Oh and this one's for Madam Stella for restoring my lacking faith in good
fan fic!
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
"Yo ho, yo ho a fisherman's life for me!" The young girl continued to
sing about fisherman and muskies until an ominous hand came up and grabbed
her shoulder, nearly making her jump off the edge of the pontoon boat.
"Cursed fisherman haunt these waters."
"That's enough, Mr. Kramer," said a voice from behind him. Richard Michaels
was the person behind the voice keeping Mr. Kramer in line. Mr. Kramer
walked off muttering about bad luck to have women around. Her dad came up
then.
"I find fishermen really interesting dad."
"Yes, well that's what I'm afraid of." He turned and walked away. The girl
turned back to the water, when she noticed a boy floating on a piece of
driftwood.
"There's some guy in the water!" She cried out. That set the few men on
board in motion. They had to put down their Miller Lights and tackle boxes
and hauled him on board and set him on a bench near the front of the
pontoon.
"Can you take care of him?" Asked the girls father. "I'm not good with
drown victims, ya understand right?"
"'Guess so," she walked over to the boy and reached to brush a piece of wet
hair out of his face. He suddenly grabbed her hand, causing her to
practically jump off the boat for the second time that day.
"Who.are you?" The boy asked.
"I'm Clare, I guess I'm in charge of you or something," she trailed off.
"Derek Foster," he got out before he fainted again. Claire just rolled her
eyes and noticed something around his neck. She pulled it out and looked at
it. It was a small black fishing lure, minus the hooks and was on a silver
chain.
"Has he said anything?" Michaels asked. Claire jumped again and almost said
some things that could get her grounded if her father heard. She was sick
of being snuck up on.
"His name is Derek Foster," she snapped as she wandered back to her
original spot. That's when the fog cleared and she noticed the burning
rowboats and a black fishing boat fading into the fog.