Fodder

Fifteen fish stood between 'The Shark' and his path of prominence; the honor of being hailed a callous, coldblooded trawl.

Before the night had ended; seven banded brothers had fallen, along with the seven other obstinate ones, perishing in his pit of darkness.

At last, nothing more than a singular dark creature with the mark of infinity stood in his way.

The angler looked for his opportunity to strike the heightened prey, honing the tilt of his teeth.

A course was chosen; the hunter saw his cue, he struck in a burst of alacrity.

The fodder fled, recoiling, rolling to its darkened demise and then rebounding off the barrier’s reef, it stood on the edge of the abyss.