| rdfs:comment | - Quiet, Peaceful, Undisturbed. Surrounded by woods lies Fawnhill Lake, The only noise for miles is the quiet rustling of a squirrel, dear, maybe even the odd otter rolling about in the undergrowth. The only disturbance on the silvery waters, the odd fish jumping up out of the water. But wait a minute... What's this? The perpetual silence has been broken. Michael Dresden has been comin up to Fawnhill Lake ever since he was a boy, his father showed him a 'secret' path through the dense forests to come fishing. Now, with his own son of eight, Aaron, Michael comes to the lake, in the same spot, to fish.
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| abstract | - Quiet, Peaceful, Undisturbed. Surrounded by woods lies Fawnhill Lake, The only noise for miles is the quiet rustling of a squirrel, dear, maybe even the odd otter rolling about in the undergrowth. The only disturbance on the silvery waters, the odd fish jumping up out of the water. But wait a minute... What's this? The perpetual silence has been broken. Michael Dresden has been comin up to Fawnhill Lake ever since he was a boy, his father showed him a 'secret' path through the dense forests to come fishing. Now, with his own son of eight, Aaron, Michael comes to the lake, in the same spot, to fish. Trout were a regular occurence, and so were midgies. as Michael had learnt, amongst other things from his father that fishing early on in the morning was the best time. Rods were fixed together, and bait was placed on the end, and Michael and Aaron were both glad of a sit down after the treacherous and, unfortunately, uphill trek to the lake. This being the reason the lake was so secluded, sat, on it's own with posibly only Michael's, his son's and his father's rod ever touching the waters. As always with fishing, the wait was a long one, and father and son gazed at the mirror-like waters, as the cold autumnal breeze brushed quitely through the trees behind them. "Have the fish woken up yet?" Aaron asked, a question that was always asked after about forty-five minutes. "Doesn't look like it, Does it, son?" Michael said, and, like always, he got a bite. "It's a Big'un!" he said, fighting with his rod, trying to pull ashore whatever he had caught. Out in the still waters there was a break, a thrashing fish on the end of the line, trying desperately to let itself free, "Get the net!" Michael cried, his son transfixed on the thrashing animal. Arron grabbed the net, on the end of the long pole and stuck it into the water, Michael guided the fish into the net, as it carried on furiously thrashing. "It's a pike!" Michael said, peering at the hideous fish as it landed reluctantly on dry land! "It's horrible!" Aaron said, looking at the enormous fish, and it's equally enormous jaws. "It's useless, i know that!" said Michael, and he quickly picked up the net and placed the fish haphazardly in the water. it straightened itself up, thanked god he didn't taste nice and swam off. The morning wore on, and soon, three trout were pulled triumphantly from the waters, which should just about do for tea. and at 2 pm, father and son mutually wished for dinner, so they set off back into the woods.
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