Maintenance Failure

You'll just have to read it and find out.

It was a radiant, balmy summer day. The water was a color somewhere between blue and green that made a scenic picture upstream where it gurgled down over the two to three foot boulders in the old river. In the spot where I was fishing, the water was running a bit more than the spot downstream where Peter had decided to try his luck. Though the sun shone brightly, the birds sang and a cool breeze cooled the air, something didn’t seem quite right. I had gone on vacation for the specific purpose of finding a little peace and quiet, but now that I had it, it was causing a clenching queasiness in the pit of my stomach. After every cast I turned and scanned the brush behind me for snakes as I thought more than once that I heard a rustling in that brush. But there was nothing there. I scanned the trees and the skies as if I was some caveman who feared some prehistoric death from above. None of it was rational, but I didn’t care. My heart was pounding feverishly and my hands had even begun to tremble.

 

Oh stop it. You’re being ridiculous. I told myself.

 

I picked up my tackle box and started down the trail towards Peter. I called out to him as I got close to the place where I’d left him. I'd called him a few times and wondered why he didn’t answer when I remembered how he’d shushed me last year and admonished me about shouting by the water and frightening the fish. So I stopped calling to him and just worked my way down the path.

At the opening in the trail the trees opened up to an expanse of slow moving river. There by the water were Peter’s tackle box and fishing pole. But Peter was not there. I wondered where the hell he had gone for a moment, then I remembered the berry bushes that he’d commented on on our way in to the river. So I followed the trail to the berry bushes but there was no Peter. The ominous feeling of unease was beginning too come back as I hurried down the trail back to the river. There I began rooting through the brush. Maybe Peter had taken ill. After all he was 47 and had had one previous heart attack.

As I rummaged through the brush I found it, overgrown with weeds there was an old sign that had fallen down. I turned the sign over to see that it read ‘Danger, Crocodiles. Keep away from water.’

Reviews

[Dean Kuch®]

Poor Peter! I do believe he was lunch! of course, that's just the way my mind works.
An ominously dark tale, with just the right amount of twisted humor thrown in for good measure. You left it wide open for the reader to deduce the fate of the narrator's freind. I like that...

[The Pain Stays Fresh]

I love the unexpected twist. The ending leads us to believe that Peter was eaten, but it's so open that we could be wrong. Who knows? Maybe he just moved to a different spot. It's so well written. Another wonderful write.

[?]

oh no, not Crocodiles
I did not expect this from the title. Nice story
Loved the unexpected ending