A Short Fiction
By Dusty Middleton
The first thing they did was kill the rooster who ruled the area.
A bit cruel to come in and destroy the local alpha, but it was a good call, especially with their little one year old boy exploring around an already dangerous area.
With December came rain and wind, and the campsite was muddy and cold. But the little family was happy, and it was an adventure that they had been preparing for.
In the mornings Ramon would pack a thermos and a mate with his boards in the car and leave in the dark. His wife and small child both woke with his early morning noises, but once his noises had faded down the gravel road, they slept comfortably in their blankets.
In the afternoons he drank bottles of beer. He watched the weather maps and his calendar. He wrote letters and made phone calls. He looked over his equipment and watched footage from previous days and previous months. His father had never been as successful, but they carried themselves very similarly, hard working, and at the same time able to shrug everything else off and contemplate the windy afternoon and a dangerous sea.
Alejandro, thirty years earlier had packed his toddler son with him down towards Patagonia for a summer of work. They had gone by horseback, and dealt with more rain than most could handle. They had traveled south to fish commercially and it was a hard life, but a fond early memory for Ramon. He had been thrown from a horse in those early years, and had a bit of a phobia of the big animals, but it was a simple aversion, not a crippling fear.