Gone Fishing On Broad Creek Near Hilton Head Island, South Carolina – Short Story

Gone Fishing On Broad Creek Near Hilton Head Island, South Carolina – Short Story

When you purchase through links on our site, we may earn an affiliate commission. Here’s how it works. The sun peeked over the horizon, painting the marsh a shimmering tapestry of gold and emerald. Mist clung to the tall reeds, and the air buzzed with the awakening chorus of the Lowcountry. In a weathered johnboat bobbing …

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Gone Fishing On Lake Busbee Near Conway, South Carolina – Short Story

Gone Fishing On Lake Busbee Near Conway, South Carolina – Short Story

The rusty pick-up truck rumbled along the dusty backroads, Lake Busbee shimmering like a sapphire in the distance. Dawn’s blush stained the sky, the scent of pine sap and damp earth tickling my nose. I rolled down the window, letting the wind whip through my hair, as anticipation coiled in my gut like a tight …

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Gone Fishing On Cedar Bay Near Kingstree, South Carolina – Short Story

Gone Fishing On Cedar Bay Near Kingstree, South Carolina – Short Story

The sun, a fiery orange orb rising over the low-slung pines, painted Cedar Bay in shimmering gold. Mist clung to the still water, wispy tendrils curling around cypress knees like secrets whispered on the breeze. Dew-kissed grass crunched under boots as I trudged down the familiar dirt path, rod and tackle box slung over my …

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Gone Fishing On Boety Bay Near Andrews, South Carolina – Short Story

Gone Fishing On Boety Bay Near Andrews, South Carolina – Short Story

Mist wreathed the cypress knees of Boety Bay like ghostly scarves as Sam eased his old skiff across the glassy water. Dawn’s blush barely kissed the horizon, painting the gnarled oaks a dusky pink. An osprey screeched from its high perch, echoing in the stillness. Sam took a long, salty breath, feeling the familiar ache-tingle …

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Gone Fishing On Mackey Bay Near Andrews, South Carolina – Short Story

Gone Fishing On Mackey Bay Near Andrews, South Carolina – Short Story

The sun peeked over the horizon, casting an orange glow across the glassy surface of Mackey Bay. The air was crisp and cool, carrying the smell of salt and seaweed. It was a perfect morning for fishing, and I couldn’t wait to cast my line. I hopped into my little johnboat and motored out to …

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Gone Fishing On North Landing River Near Chesapeake, Virginia– Short Story

Gone Fishing On North Landing River Near Chesapeake, Virginia– Short Story

The Chesapeake Bay breathed mist onto the North Landing River, draping the cypress knees in ghostly lace. A sliver of dawn gilded the water, a promise of warmth soon to shatter the morning’s chill. I cast my line, the lure whistling through the air before plopping with a satisfying splash into the inky black water. …

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Gone Fishing On Carr Creek Near Georgetown, South Carolina– Short Story

Gone Fishing On Carr Creek Near Georgetown, South Carolina– Short Story

When you purchase through links on our site, we may earn an affiliate commission. Here’s how it works. The humid South Carolina air hung heavy like Spanish moss on the cypress trees flanking Carr Creek. Sunbeams, barely awake, painted the glassy surface silver and gold, while mist shrouded the distant rice fields like spectral ghosts. In …

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Gone Fishing On Jericho Creek Near Georgetown, South Carolina– Short Story

Gone Fishing On Jericho Creek Near Georgetown, South Carolina– Short Story

When you purchase through links on our site, we may earn an affiliate commission. Here’s how it works. The mist hung low over Jericho Creek, clinging to the cypress knees like wispy beards. The sun, a shy ember peeking through the Spanish moss, painted the water a mosaic of gold and slate. In this hushed dawn, …

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Gone Fishing On Waccamaw River Near Georgetown, South Carolina– Short Story

Gone Fishing On Waccamaw River Near Georgetown, South Carolina– Short Story

When you purchase through links on our site, we may earn an affiliate commission. Here’s how it works. The mist clinging to the cypress knees like wispy beards slowly surrendered to the rising sun, revealing a tapestry of emerald marsh grass fringing the glassy curves of the Waccamaw River. It was a Carolina dawn as fresh …

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