The Scar - a short story

The Scar

George had finally arrived at the cabin his family had rented for the week. George was eight and
wanted desperately to see a fish in the water. Before his mother had a chance to stop him, George
stepped out of the car and sprinted for the lake, a pair of bulky turquoise goggles clenched in one hand.

Reaching the water's edge, George slowed down to a trot. In the blink of an eye, George was in his
orange and yellow bathing suit and had his goggles tightly secured to his head. Then, silently, he slipped
into azure waves.
Underwater, the world transformed into a mysterious and mystical place. The water appeared to be
clear and sickly green at the same time; the coldness of it jolted away any tiredness George had felt on
the long ride here.

After the initial plunge, George regained his concentration and began to swim towards a large
boulder. The boulder, which was a normal, grey, boring-looking rock, loomed above him in a large
overhang. Excited, and with renewed eagerness, George swam closer.

It wasn’t until George lay directly under the massive stone shelf when he noticed the large green
shape concealed in the shadows. With a gasp that filled his mouth with lake water, George identified the
shape. It was a largemouth bass, and not just a normal one; an ugly, pink scar ran down its face and
through its beady black eye.
George now started to realize that he needed to breathe; he hadn’t returned to the surface in
almost 30 seconds. But he was entranced by the scar.
Slowly, the bass slid its way over to George, until they were face to face. George needed air, and
fast. But he could not move. The bass then continued to move forward and nudged George’s forehead
with the tip of its lip.
Right on the scar.
Instinctively, George closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was no longer staring into the
eyes of a fish. Instead, he was watching a small boy with an orange and yellow bathing suit swim away
from him.