Pt. 2

...a group of Mexicans gathered in a cluster, proclaiming a miracle because they could see the face of Jesus in a tortilla or the cooled wax drippings from a candle - but fortunately, none of that nonsense was happening today.

The wind stirred lightly and a whip-poor-will called as the fishing line sat lazily against the surface of the pond, defiantly refusing to move.  Bo shifted his weight, then regarded his foot as it kicked a pebble toward the water's edge.  He wondered what Brother Platinum had in mind when he'd given him the fishing pole, and why he'd been the one chosen - but before his mind really had a chance to wander, he realized that he hadn't thought to bait the hook.  "Stars and garters!" Bo muttered to himself, not fully knowing what it meant, but delighting in the chance to say the phrase aloud.  


He started to reel the line back in, figuring he'd have to either find a worm fast, or give up for the day when the hook caught on something at the bottom of the pond.  Bo tugged.  The hook didn't seem to want to budge at all - it was as though it was suddenly encased in concrete.  Bo took up all the slack on the line, braced himself and pulled as hard as he could.  Suddenly, the line snapped and something flew out of the pond and smacked Bo square in the middle of the forehead, then fell to the earth with a wet slap.  Stunned, he dropped his pole, rubbed his brow and squatted down to look at the small clump of mud and algae laying at his feet.  There was definitely something hard in the middle of the goop - the welt growing on his forehead proved it - and when Bo smeared some of the mess away with his fingers, he could see it looked just like a    


 

Pt. 1

Bo Pepper was fishing as the monks were wrapping up their morning prayers in the Scabby Abbey that loomed tall and menacing behind him. He couldn't remember the last time he had been fishing since his father died and left him in the care of the monks. The brothers warned Bo to stay away from the pond, as it was infested with demons... small creatures with scales and fins who could hold their breath underwater for their entire lives and writhed and gasped if they ever came into contact with God's good, pure air. But today was special. Brother Sweeney had made a detour to the restroom while he was escorting Bo to the morning prayers. Bo had waited patiently for the ancient abbot but before long he began to hear the sound of the Brother's painful, gurgly snoring and realized that this was the time to make his move. He bolted down the damp stone corridor and ran like the wind to the tool shed. Brother Platinum, so called for his thick afro of white-blond hair, had given Bo a fishing rod for his twelfth birthday and instructed him to stow it away in the tool shed.
"Guard this wisely, my son," he had said. "You never know when the fates will call upon you to use it."
But the fates were calling that day as Bo found a shady spot beneath a tall willow tree and cast his line. He marveled in the moist serenity of the pond, the thin layer of inky scum that coated the surface, the smell of the wet cigarette butts Brother Sparth left dotting the ground during what he had described to Bo as his "time to communicate with mother nature and get away from the stress of dealing with those gossiping muttonheads back at the monastery."
Bo leaned back against the tree and sighed. It really was a peaceful place here... well at least when there wasn't