There's this lake that my brother and I used to fish.

We'd use live bait, usually crickets or worms, and we'd catch

a ton of blue gill. It was a fun time and some of those early memories are the reason I've

been such an avid fisherman for most of my life. The lake wasn't the most popular fishing spot,

despite being pretty well stocked from what I can remember. I think most of the locals just found it inconvenient and inaccessible

unless you were prepared to hike through the woods a bit,

which my brother and I always were.

The seclusion was actually one of my favorite things about it,

almost like I was sharing a private activity that not everyone got to experience.

Everyone knows the best lake fishing happens during periods

of low light, meaning early morning or late evening. It's more customary to wake up at

the crack of dawn and get out early, but my brother and I developed this habit of going

out later in the day and staying into the night. It was our substitute for whatever most high

school kids did at that time of night on the weekend, probably partying and whatnot.

It was a Friday night and everything was going according to plan.

We reached the lake just as the sun started to set, and by the time we were all baited up, the sun was already starting to dip.

We were positioned at the edge of the lake on this little formation of rocks that

made a good comfortable surface for us and all our excess gear. It was something we had done

hundreds of times. As we were fishing, though, something caught my eye on the far side of the lake.

There was movement in the water, and by the sheer rippling of it, I was surprised it had taken me

so long to notice. I pointed it out to JJ, and the two of us strained our eyes in confusion,

wondering what was causing it. Keep in mind, this lake was pretty sizable, and when coupled

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