This fishing trip was the same as all the others had been; in the boat, middle of the lake, early in the morning. A few good nibbles here, a good catch there. All in all, it was shaping up to be a good day. The sun had gone down and I was out of beer. This usually means one thing. Time to go home.

I started to reel in all of my poles. I was almost done, when I got to my last pole. I started to reel it in, and I got a huge hit. A fish took my bait and ran hard. The force almost pulled me off my feet. I jerked the pole upwards, but the fish kept running. I felt that kind of tug before. This son of a bitch was big.

I kept the rod straight, but relaxed. I let the line run until the fish got comfortable. Once he stopped, I jerked the pole up and reeled like crazy. Works every time. I felt the fish try to get away, but it was too late for him; he was mine.

I readied my net when I saw that my line had gotten next to my boat; a sign that the fish was just below. I reeled and reeled and reeled. I could see the bobber’s orange tinge beneath the water. Sweet, I thought, almost done. Then the line went slack.

Shit. He got off. I reeled in the rest of my line and put my pole up, rather disappointed. I stared down at the water where the fish was last. Then, something bobbed out of the water. It was the top of the head of a fish. A big fish. The head was easily the size of a hubcap. I took the net, reached out, and poked it. It didn’t move. Weird. Maybe it wasn’t alive.

I reached under and felt around the head for the mouth. Once I found the jaw, I grabbed and pulled it up. Everything seemed normal about the fish. Except for the fact that it had no body. At the neck of the fish were large teeth marks. Its head was cut off, a clean cut. No, not cut. Bitten off.

I drove to the shore as fast as I could and went home. I haven’t been back to the lake since.