PHOTO PROMPT © Krista Strutz
It had been a year since Martha passed. That Monday, Jerry felt ready to paddleboard again. He and Martha had circumnavigated the forty-acre lake they lived on every weekday morning like clockwork up until then.
Public access weekenders with their Evinrudes, jet-skis, and bass boats left an ugly taste in the ecosystem.
Jerry saw her from a distance, on the old Smith place woodpile. Funny, she didn’t fly off as he approached. Then he saw the heavy-gauge fish line tangled in her legs.
He paddled home, got leather gloves, a blanket, and line-snippers, thought of Martha, and set her free.
Rochelle is the colorful host of Friday Fictioneers. I loved this week’s image so much I decided to write a second story.