Good evening to the whole Steemit family.
Today I want to share with you a story I did for my 6th grade students in the year 1998.
Of my own authorship.
It is three o'clock in the morning, the fisherman Mano Chuchú, -as they almost call him out of love-, wakes up with the first song of the roosters, which have always been his watch.
He gets up from his bed with his wife, she prepares the coffee while he picks up his fishing implements (ropes, hooks, oars, ropes, anchor ...).
It goes out to the palm grove where it protects your little boat from the sun. It is a three meter long boat. The fisherman standing in front of the sea breathes deep, knowing that this awaits him to share another day of sun, wind, salt, birds, fish and hooks ...
With some effort and helped by his wife, he manages to throw the boat into the water. There is very little light and saying goodbye to his companion, he begins to paddle away from the shore, leaving a trail of white lights that burn in the water product of the planton.
It is still four in the morning, and the fisherman Mano Chuchú is moving slowly but surely in search of good fishing. You must go far from the coast to get to where the best fish are. It has been paddling for two hours, it is already six in the morning and a light appears looming, revealing a bright silhouette lying on the horizon of the vast sea. It is the sun that comes claiming the day.
In the distance there are some motor boats that approach. They also go fishing, but they go further. Mano Chubhú must stay close, because it would be harder to return. Once in the place, release your anchor and start fishing. The wind blows softly and caresses the face of the fisherman, the waves make the small boat dance with a movement of vaiven. The sun keeps rising to reach the moon that is hiding from the day
After an hour and still do not catch anything, it seems that the fish refuse to fall on the hook of the fisherman, who pointing to the sky, begs for the fish to arrive. Almost instantly he pulled hard on the corder, so strong that the small boat moved abruptly. The corder was so tense that Mano Chuchú could not raise the possible fish that had stung, seemed to have stuck to a stone.
The fisherman continued soteniendo with force the corder that burned his fingers by friction. So it was slowly rising, it was agonizing, suffocating, because the sun was beginning to charge its batteries and the heat was evident.
30 minutes pass and the fisherman still struggles with a fish that looks huge. Sweat runs down his forehead and enters his eyes, he wipes his face over his shoulders to keep holding the string, which remains very tense. An hour of struggle has passed. The motor boats are returning from their fishing on the high seas, they bring good fishing. They pass by the side of the small boat, the Mano Chuchú shakes his head and shouts for help. He can not let go of the line for fear that the fish will escape. They do not hear it or realize the gestures. They continue on their way leaving the fisherman, his boat and the possible fish in the solitude of the blue sea.
In the fisherman's house, his wife and five small children awaited him anxiously. The woman was worried because Mano Chuchú did not return from fishing. She asked the fishermen who lived nearby if they had seen her husband, and they answered yes, but he wanted to stay fishing.
Mano Chuchú was still fighting with that supposed fish, which he had almost dominated. At last he could watch as a dark shadow held his line about 20 meters from his boat.
He seemed immobile and did not put up any resistance anymore. Mano Chuchú loosened the anchor rope a little and approached helped by his oars, but before he had tied the line to the side of the boat. Suddenly the huge shadow submerged again and almost removed from the boat the fisherman who held on tightly. He took the cord again to prevent it from breaking with the friction of the friction of the wood with the cord. He realized that the anchor rope had fallen into the water and could not recover it, being at a loss of that fish. As he could and doing his best, he tied the string in a round wood protruding from the back of the boat, taking the oars to try to drag the huge fish to the shore.
He rowed, rowed, ... without stopping. While the sun, already tired of the day, began its withdrawal to give way to the night. But there the fisherman continued spending the rest of the energy that he had left. He thought of his children that he had left with nothing to eat at home. The thought of arriving home without anything gave him a little more encouragement to continue fighting.
Already just when he was without strength could see how the fish floated a few meters from him. Between the emotion and the fatigue he could see that it was a fish almost the size of his small boat. It was a beautiful Mero, which tied to the back part and continued rowing, but almost did not advance. He stopped and with more willpower than force he raised half of the fish to the boat and the other was out of it. He continued rowing, and already near the shore, where the fish grazed the sand ...
Sorry Steemit friends, I think you should put the end to the story according to your imagination ...
I hope you liked it.