“Around the waste there is Grundy and the clown and the man who comes to fish. The man who comes to fish wears a faded brown body warmer, and pitches his line at the very edge of the scum pond. Grundy watches him, from a distance. Watches as he wrestles the flippering silver bodies from the water and smacks them dead against a rock. Why, Grundy wonders, do the fish keep coming and biting at the line? Don’t they smell the blood? What is it to them to see their fellows yanked abruptly skywards, never to return?”
A story about a crazy old man who lives on a patch of wasteground. Shortlisted for the Bristol Short Story Prize, and published in the competition anthology. Purchase a copy here.